Love Games
by Shiv3r
Summary: Clary is the It girl at her high school. Jace is the bad-boy no one touches unless they want their heart broken. Both are playing the game of love. But when dared to ask out Clary, will the two end up giving up their game—or worse—make it a competition?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Clary is the It girl at her high school. Jace is the bad-boy no one touches unless they want their heart broken. Both are playing the game of love. But when dared to ask out Clary, will the two end up giving up their game—or worse—make it a competition?

**_In the back of the car_**

_**On the way to the bar**_

_**I got you on my lips; I got you on my lips**_

_**At the foot of the stairs**_

_**With my fingers in your hair**_

_**Baby this it…**_

_**She won't ever get enough**_

_**Once she gets a little touch**_

_**If I had it my way**_

_**You know that I'd make you say**_

_**Ooooooooh**_

_**Ooooooooh**_

CPOV

The music pumped up through the dance floor and into my body. I swayed my hips slowly next to my best friend, Isabelle Lightwood, fraternal twin to Alec Lightwood. I put the cherry in my mouth and popped it off the stem with my lips. Letting the stem fall to the ground, I turned to face Izzy.

"Cherries, huh?" Izzy asked, not missing a beat in her dance.

"What can I say? I do love fruit."

She snorted. "Yeah that's it. You're eating cherries 'just cause you like them'"

"Of course I am. I can't believe you would think otherwise."

Izzy rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "Cherry me up, baby."

Smirking, I put a cherry into Izzy's hand. She mimicked my actions, sucking the cherry off the stem then tossing the brown twig to the ground.

"Let's dance, cherry girl."

Smiling, I took up Izzy's offer and began dancing to the real beat of the music. We both danced our hearts out side by side. Guys tried to cut in and we would give them a seducing smile, maybe brush our hands on their arms, and turn away.

_Rule number one: Only give them a taste. They'll be panting for more._

Laughing, Izzy and I led ourselves off the dance floor and over to the bar. Rob, the tender, looked us up and down and got us our usual drinks.

"Anything else you may be interested in, ladies?" Rob leaned against the counter, eyeing us like a piece of meat.

"Maybe I could squeeze you in some day." Izzy grazed her fingertips up and down his arm.

Chuckling to myself, I turned, drink in hand, and left Izzy with her newest boy toy. I made my way up the stairs of the club, going to the top level where the only lights were the occasional candelabras. The music was faint up here, less powerful. My heels clicked softly on the hard concrete floor as I walked down the length of the level to the farthest corner.

"Drink?" I offered out my drink to my best guy friend, Simon.

He nodded his head and took my drink. He gulped it down like a shot and scrunched up his face. "Never thought of you as fruity kind of girl, Fray."

"I happen to love fruit, thank you," I said, waving a cherry in his face.

"Ah, the infamous cherry. Sad you have resorted to fruit to make a guy notice you."

I laughed aloud. "Hey, love is a game, Simon. I gotta play it with everything I've got."

I sat down on the cool floor next to him, the iciness of the concrete going right through my skinny jeans and chilling me to the bone. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my middle.

"I don't understand you, Clary."

"What do you mean?"

Simon looked away, off toward the flashing multi-colored lights below us. "You play love as if it means nothing to you. What if you actually do fall in love?"

"That'll never—"

"But what if it does?"

I kept silent and looked off in the same direction as him. I saw Izzy, still flirting with Rob, now sitting on the bar table, Rob leaning closely into her. The lights flashed over the wave of people down below, making the sequence-covered mini-dresses sparkle.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know."

JPOV

Cars honked as they passed by my friends and I on the barren sidewalks of the city. Hands stuffed in our pockets, we ran to the club a block over. Once there, we ducked in and made a beeline for the back room, weaving through throngs of people.

Pool tables were all over the back room. Guys were talking, joking, and knocking their sticks into the cue balls. My group headed over to an empty table, grabbing sticks along the way. Alec racked up and Magnus got us all some drinks.

"So, already starting to scout out your next victim, Herondale?"

I grinned over at Alec before going back to scouring out the room, looking for any girl who had managed to wander in here. "You know it, Lightwood."

I heard him laugh behind me and come up to stand beside me. He clapped me on the shoulder. "You are amazing, dude."

"Please, don't flatter." I flashed a smile at him before focusing in on a girl in particular. She had firey red hair and a short leather skirt on. How she could even walk in the thing was beyond me, but, quite frankly, I didn't really care.

Alec noticed my line of sight and furrowed his brow. "Kinda looks like Clary."

I stopped admiring the red-head to look at Alec. "What?"

"Clary. Clary Fray."

I stared at him blankly.

Alec sighed. "Izzy's friend, Clarissa Fray."

I blinked.

"She's in your Algebra II class?"

I looked back at the girl, straining to remember someone who looked like her. Nobody rang a bell. I shook my head.

Alec pursed his lips. "Mmm… Okay, maybe this'll ring a bell—the girl who every guy pants after, the girl who is always voted dance queen, but she never shows up to claim the crown. _The_ Clary Fray. She has her own reserved table at lunch, but she never eats there. She has a new guy every day."

Finally, a short red-headed girl entered my mind. "Oh, yeah, I remember Clary. The girl who sits next to me in Algebra."

Alec started at me incredulously. "Seriously? That's all you know her from?"

I nodded.

Alec shook his head sadly. "Do you, like, live in a cave? She's freaking the high school slut!"

Just then, the door slammed shut. In came Alec's sister, Isabelle. "So is that how you refer to my friends, Alec?"

Her heeled stilettos clicked on the floor as she came over to Alec and I; Magnus was hot on her heels. She perched herself on the pool table and spit a cherry pit onto the floor. Magnus gave her a disproving look and handed us all our drinks.

"I see Clary has gotten to you."

Isabelle laughed. "More like, I got to Clary and she picked up on a little more tricks." She winked and spit another pit out. "I gotta ask you all, though, what is with guys and cherries?"

I shrugged. "What can we say? We got ourselves a weakness for red fruits."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Alec took a swig of his drink. "What's Clary up to tonight? Leading some guy on?"

She shook her head. "No, that was me tonight. I don't know where Clary is. She left me at the bar and disappeared. I wouldn't be surprised if she was though."

"Does everyone know this girl but me?"

Everyone looked at me like I had six heads. Isabelle cleared her throat. "You seriously haven't talked to her before?"

"No."

She furrowed her brow. "She's basically a second you."

I raised my eyebrow in question.

"Yup. She plays love, never really caring much. Just like you, playa'."

I scrunched my eyebrows. "Huh. I wonder why she never tried to play me."

"Jace, you really don't want to be the apple of Clary's eyes." Magnus gave me a worried look.

"Why not?"

"Because she'll break your heart." Isabelle cut in matter-of-factly.

"I play the same game as her. There is no way she could break my heart. It's impossible."

"That's what you think," Magnus muttered. Alec nodded in agreement.

"How bad is she," I had to know.

"Let's just say," Alec started slowly, "that I'm glad I'm gay."

"That bad?"

Everyone nodded.

I slowly started to smile. "I think it's time to meet this girl."

Isabelle hopped down from the table and looked me in the eyes, a serious, anxious expression on her face. "She's a heart-breaker. Don't mess with her, Jace."

I smirked. "Don't worry about me, Isabelle. I'm just gunna have a little fun." I turned and started to walk away. Half way to the door, I turned, still walking, and said. "That's all. Just a little fun."

I turned back around and pushed open the door, entering the club once again.

_Time to have some fun._

CPOV

I threw my head back as I laughed. Simon tightened his arms around my waist. He twirled us swiftly around in our dark little corner; my heels slid against the floor, slowing us down.

"Wait, wait. I gotta take these torture traps off." I unwrapped my arms from his neck and yanked my heels off before tossing them to the corner.

Simon looped an arm around my waist and pulled me towards him. His other arm grazed my back, making me shiver. He put his lips to my ear. "Clary."

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you ever try the game on me?"

I pursed my lips and closed my eyes. The very thought of playing Simon like that made me sick to the core. Every boy I've led on has always been someone random, someone I didn't really know. Simon was different. He was my best friend. And I couldn't ever bear to lose him to the difficult game of love.

"Because I don't want to lose you."

He pulled my body closer to his. "You won't," he murmered, still impossibly close to me.

"Yes I would," I whispered. "I would lose you to the game. I can't do that, Simon. I can't lose you."

"Maybe you wouldn't have to. Maybe you could stop the game for me?" His sweet breath tickled my face and his warmth wrapped around me. But somehow it seemed wrong. Something was telling me no. Don't do it. Simon is your friend.

"Simon...Please."

Simon pulled his faceback to look at me. His eyes bored into mine as he brushed my hair off my face and tucked it behind my ear. "Just think about it, Clary. Please. Just do that for me."

I bit my lip. "I already know my answer."

He smiled. "Always so stubborn." He paused, just staring into my eyes. Finally, he said. "I have to go. Mom'll be wanting me."

My lips twitched. "Tell her I said hello."

He grinned. "She told me something, you know."

"Yeah? What's that?"

His grin grew wider. "Maybe I'll tell you some day."

"Simon! Come--"

He kissed my forehead. "Maybe some day. I'll see you around, Fray."

"Yeah. See you."

Then Simon disappeared into the shadows. I wouldn't know when I would see him next. I never did. Simon was home-schooled and only came to the club on Wednesdays, and some Fridays. But even so, he didn't come every Wednesday. It was impossible to know when I'd see Simon next. Sometimes it was a day, sometimes it was a month. It all depended if we were in the right place and the right time.

I looked away, at the multi-colored flashing lights. It was then that I saw him. Jace Herondale. His golden hair glowed under the bright lights and his eyes sparkled as he looked around the club. Girls were obviously looking him over, some even attempted to get him to dance. Every time, though, he would whisper a promise in their ear and send them on their way.

I scrunched up my nose. What was _he _doing here? Herondale hung out in the back room and at parties. The club was _my _place. And I need to set him straight. There can only be so many players in one club. Two was plenty enough--but three? That was going overboard. I should go down there and tell him to get lost.

But suddenly I just felt tired. Tired with my talk with Simon. Tired of flirting with any guy that gave me a glance. Tired of dancing. Tired of owning up to my title. I just wanted to go home, climb in bed, and go to sleep.

I made my way back down the stairs to the main level of the club. The lights blinded me instantly for I wasn't used to the brightness. When my feet slapped onto the concrete, I realized I had left my heels up on the second floor where I was with Simon. Heeless, I was about three inches shorter--not a good thing when you're in a sea of people already taller than you _with _the heels.

Groaning, I turned around--only to be met with Jace. I jumped back several paces and bumped into some guy. I quickly spun around and muttered an apology.

"S'Okay, baby. You can crash into me any time."

I cringed and turned back around to Jace, not in the mood to flirt with anyone right now. "Please--don't scare me like that."

He smirked. "My apologies. I was just worried--you seemed upset."

I shrugged. "Just tired."

"Would you like it if I drove you home?"

I placed my hand on my hip. "Look, I'm really not in the mood to get all flirty, Herondale. So just step aside and let me go upstairs."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Sassy." He looped an arm around my waist. "I like that in a girl."

I pulled back my hand and smacked him good across the face. He stumbled back, surprised, his hand held to his cheek.

"Now if you'll _excuse me_, I'm going to get my heels."

I stomped around him and skipped up the stairs, taking two at a time. It wasn't long before I reached the landing and was on my way back to the corner I was just at with Simon.

Grabbing my heels, I went out the fire door that led to a set of stairs leading to the back of the club. I slowly desended them, not risking another encounter with Jace tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hellllloooooooooo faithful readers! In honor of the new book, Spirit Bound, by Richelle Mead, I decided to put a quick update on here! So Enjoy!**

**Read, Write, Love [//.O*]**

**By the way, sorry for the shortness of chapter. Promise the next one will be extra long!**

_You Don't Know Me_

_And You Don't Wear my Chains_

_Ooh Yeah_

_She said I think I'll go to Boston_

_Where no one knows my name_

_I want to see the sunrise_

_I'm Tired of the Sunset_

_Boston_

_Where No On Knows My Name*_

**CPOV**

I whisked into the tall mansion that sat on corner of Eldwood. A strong wind blew in, slamming the door with a big BANG that made me cringe and duck my head, waiting for my father to come racing down the stairs and punish me. But no one came crashing downstairs. Everything was silent except for quiet ticking of the grandfather clock that belong to my mother in the corner.

I heaved a dry sob at the thought of my mother. When I was the young age of three, my mother disappeared. No hints, no signs, no thoughts as to what happened to her. Just, Poof. Gone. Just like that. She left behind everything she owned—including the one picture of her I had that my father didn't burn or stash away from my curious eyes. He's never seen it—if he did, who's to say he wouldn't take that one away from me, too?

My hand unconsciously went to my back right pocket, feeling the subtle thinness of the cardstock photo. The image of it was burned into my mind; A woman with firey hair just like mine and sparkly, joyous green eyes filled with awe and excitement. She was sitting under an oak tree at sunset. The glowing blood-red ball of fire in the sky behind her only seemed to highlight and illuminate her hair even more. Behind the camera, I imagined, was my father, before he turned into the horrible thing he is today.

Shuddering, I let my hand slide down my thigh, away from the photo. Groping at the tight denim, I reigned my fear and anger back into the back of mind to be sought later for a better, useful moment.

My heels clicked and clacked as I walked across the marble flooring to the grand staircase that wound up three floors. I hurried up them, taking two at a time, staying only on the balls of my feet to make less sound. I got off the stairs at the second floor, which was, as I liked to call it, my floor.

This floor belonged to no one else but me. After all, there were only three doors; two of which were my bathroom and bedroom. The third was my art gallery, filled with large canvas paintings, Kodak-worthy photos, and bursting-with-life sketches. It was the one place that I knew I could go to get away from the world, the pain, the fear—

I gulped. _No, don't think about that._ I shook my head furiously, red curls flouncing. To get my mind off things, I bustled into my room, shut the door, and flicked on my computer. I wondered what ShadowsAngel had posted today. I wondered if he had as much of crappy day as me.

The internet page popped up and I went into my favorites. _ShadowsAngel's Blog, ShadowsAngel's Blog…._ Finding the right link, I double-clicked, hard, on the flimsy plastic of my mouse. I drummed my fingers as I waited for the page to load. Finally**, ****WELCOME TO…SHADOWSANGEL'S BLOG! **Satisfied, I started to read:

**WELCOME TO…SHADOWSANGEL'S BLOG!**

I don't know about you guys, but I had a suckish day today. First, I find out that I'm not as big as a player that I thought. Which, quite honestly, is not even the important part. The important part is that my life epicly sucks. Really. It just plain out sucks.

**First, my drunk-assed sister, Arianne, throws a punch at me when I started ignoring her. It hit me smack in the back of the head. I toppled over, hitting the hardwood floor of my apartment with, to her, a satisfying thud. **

**My head still throbs.**

**When did my sister get such a punch?**

**Why does my life still epicly suck?**

**When will I stop asking these rhetorical questions?**

**Anyway. At least I still have the studio. Miss Markowits says I'm getting better every day. So good that she gave me the key to the studio. Yep. I wear it around my neck everyday, though under my shirt. No one needs to ask questions. Point is, I found my escape. Piano has become my drug. It's my sweet escape, my paradise, my way out of this crude world.**

**And for all of you out there saying, "Emo loner," hey, at least I'm not doing drugs. **

**Instead, I prefer to vent my feelings through the powerful instrument of the piano that can be loud and angry (lower keys), playful and light, (middle keys) or soft and sad (higher keys). **

**Isn't that something?**

**Try a piano. I recommend it.**

**~ShadowsAngel**

My heart gave a squeeze for SA. The poor guy's abusive, drunk sister has gone over the line this time. At least he has music, like I have art. It was one of the reasons I felt so in touch with SA—both of us were looking for an escape, an we think we finally found one.

I quickly tapped in a comment, saying simply, "I know how you feel" before flipping the switch on my computer, the room going dark. The barest hint of a full moon shined through my practically see-through white curtains. I stared at it in wonderment, a hundred thoughts buzzing around my head like little bees caught in a fake hive.

I crawled into bed, pulled the comforter up to my chin, and shut my eyes, slipping into a dreamless sleep, heeled shoes and all.


	3. AN

Hey guys! Yes, this is an Author's Note; what else would it be? Anyway, I'm posting this to tell you all that I won't be writing for a while. I've decided that if I'm serious about writing a novel, I better sit my butt down and write it. So, I'm concentrating on that and not fanfiction :(

Good news is, GUESS WHAT? CASSANDRA CLARE IS ON FANFICTION!

Yes, you read me right! Cassandra Clare is on Fanfiction under the name of Cassandra Claire. She wrote the following fanfictions:

The Draco Trilogy

The Very Secret Diaries

And an epistolary retelling of the J.R.R Tolkein books

I checked her profile page (which was made in 2000) and it appears that Cassandra has deleted all of her fanfictions probably due to the fame that she now has :)

In any case, I just wanted to tell you guys about that incase you didn't already know! And, uhm, I will eventually restart my story. Thank you all for reading the few chapters that I had up. I hope to see you all soon!


	4. Chapter 3

**After promises, pleads, and a threat, I've decided to take a break from writing my novel to write this chapter :)**

_A Freak of Nature_

_Stuck in Reality_

_I don't Fit the Picture_

_I'm not what you want me to we_

_Sorry_

_Under the Radar_

_Out of the System_

_Caught in the Spotlight_

_That's my Existence_

_You want me to Change_

_But all I Feel is Strange_

**JPOV**

After having a few more than my fair share of drinks, I fell into Alec's car. Isabelle was already settled into the left rear seat when I collapsed inside the car. My head rested in her lap.

"Yeesh, Herondale. Why do you have to put your head in _my_ lap?"

"Because yours is the comfiest of all of Cloud Land."

Isabelle gave me the oddest look that involved one eye twitching. Apparently I should keep my mouth shut.

There wasn't much talking throughout the car ride, for fear that I might pipe in and say something ridiculously stupid that it'd make all of their eye's twitch. It made the ride to my apartment very boring.

And tiring. By the time we reached my shady little building, I was half-asleep.

Alec turned in his seat and looked at me the best he could. "You sure you don't want to crash at our place? Arianne is sure to give you some trouble."

I mumbled an incoherent response, opened up the car door, and spilled out. I stumbled drunkenly toward my building and just barely managed to get the door open.

My apartment building, though shady, had a sweet little receptionist, Katie. Katie had just graduated from college and was scrambling to scrape up some money. Fortunately, the owner of this _darling_ building took kindly to Katie and promised her half rent in addition to her paycheck if she worked here. She jumped at the chance, of course, and she got paid well. I liked Katie. Not in a romantic way, but as a person. She was just always so sweet and caring. She listened to my problems. And I feared she would be leaving soon. Whenever I brought up the subject, though, she promised me she wouldn't be leaving any time soon. I couldn't help but wonder what her reasoning was behind staying in the dreary apartment when she had enough money saved up to go get a new apartment.

But I digress. Katie looked up from the glowing screen of her computer and took in my appearance. With a little gasp, she hopped to her feet and hurried over to me. Hooked an arm under my underarms and put my arm around her shoulder. I never used the word 'arm' so many times in one sentence before. The thought made me giggle inappropriately. Katie gave me an incredulous look wreathed with worry.

"Jeesh, Jace, what have you been doing tonight?"

"Drinking. Partying. The usual." How she could understand what I was saying was beyond me.

"You know how I feel about underage drinking, Jace Herondale," she chasted.

"And you know how _I _feel about it. Drinking and I are like this." I twisted my middle finger around my index finger and held my hand up to Katie.

She sighed. "It's your sister that does this to you." She managed to walk us over to the elevator, in which we were now standing in as the doors shut softly. Thank God the owner wasn't too cheap for elevators.

"Nuh. Drinking is my own decision." My words were a slurred mess, getting sloppier with each sentence I spoke.

"I don't care what you say. Your sister is a bad influence on you. A very bad influence."

"I take care 'o myself." I sounded like a British drunken guinea pig. I was one of the three.

I now wonder which word you chose.

"Barely." The word was a whisper, and I wasn't sure if I had even heard it correctly. Did Katie perhaps know about the daily beatings I received from Arianne? I covered the bruises well, so I don't know how she could have found out. No one knew. But maybe it was time to change that.

But who the crap knows? I'm so drunk right now I don't know my left from my right.

The elevator opened and Katie led us out into the hall. She dragged me to apartment 47B where she then demanded the key to the door. I muttered something about it being in a plant or something. Katie set me down on the floor and began searching through every plant on the floor. I'd have loved to help, but I was beyond the point of remembering just _which_ plant held the key.

The room spun around me in dizzying colors, shapes and figures morphing together. At one point I thought I saw a tiger, but I couldn't be sure.

One thing was for sure, though: I did not handle being drunk well.

Within the next couple of minutes, Katie was standing in front of me, driving a key into the lock on my door. Twisted it. Swung open the door.

"Alrighty, Jace. Let's get you in bed."

Katie picked me up similar to the way before, though this time she had to put in a lot more effort since I had long ago stopped being conscious enough to half-walk. At some point I believe I saw Arianne passed out at the kitchen table, but I could be wrong. What with all the alcohol going through my system right now, I was surprised I wasn't rambling on about unicorns and pixies.

Somehow I was suddenly being laid down on my bed. Katie dropped me down on my back, my legs hanging off the side. She dragged my legs up and onto the bed.

"Where's your pillow?" she mumbled, walking blindly around the room.

A few minutes passed and I was almost asleep. Suddenly my head was being lifted and a pillow was being set down. Katie put my head down gently and brushed the hair off my face.

"Good night, Jace." She brushed her fingertips lightly across my cheekbone. I heard her soft footsteps padding out of the room, and then she was gone.

* * *

**3rdPerson**

Isabelle Lightwood sat across from her brother on her luxurious queen-sized bed. Gauzy curtains hung around them, similar to the ones in her friend's, Clarissa Fray, room. Alec stared at Isabelle, his face illuminated by the two candles that sat on either nightstand beside her bed. His eyes reflected the dancing flames, as did hers.

"You need to do something, Iz." Alec spoke softly, as if not to disturb the comfortable silence that had settled around them.

"_Me?_ What about _you_? He's _your _friend." Isabelle easily matched his pitch.

"And Clay is _your _friend."

"Okay," she said slowly. "So we both need to do something."

Alec sighed. "I suppose it's only fair."

Isabelle nodded. "What do you propose to do first, then?"

Alec's eyes looked over her head, at a sliver of the moon that was just visible through a crack in his sister's heavy velvet curtains. "The only thing we can do: Wait."

* * *

**CPOV**

There were two swings.

The swings hovered above the ground, which was flooded, not even visible through the water. I sat upon the swing and it swayed slightly, as if reminding me that I could tip over at any second and plunge into the water. I had no idea how deep it was, but I felt, somewhere deep down, that it was deep. Very deep.

My feet dangled just above the wavering surface of the water. Tiny droplets of rain leftover from whatever storm that had passed through still dripped slowly from the sky, creating little circles of vibrations throughout the water.

Everything was gray. The swing, the water, the rain. Me. My hands clung desperately to the rope attached to the seat of the swing. They blended right in with the color.

I felt as if I was a ghost. Maybe ghost is the wrong word. Dead. Yes, that is better. Dead; I felt dead. No. No, that isn't it. I felt as if…I didn't matter. As if I were just a soul among other souls, not special or unique in any way.

Is that perhaps why I played my game? Because I didn't feel special? All those guys certainly made me feel special, with all their sweet words and compliments.

_Sexy_ is hardly a compliment, though. It was a dirty word that men use to describe a woman they think would be easy. Sexy was not the same as _beautiful._ Beautiful is a sweet word men use when they have finally found someone special to them. Someone they love.

I was never really special to any of those guys. They just think I'm easy.

But being the slut that I am, could you believe that I am still a virgin?

The thought made me laugh humorlessly to myself. I was a slut. And a bad one, at that. What was I thinking?

Suddenly, I was aware of a presence near me. I looked to my right, and there was another swing. And on that swing was a boy.

He was about my age with slightly curled, golden locks that came just past his ear. He was staring straight at me, making his eyes visible. They were golden, one shade richer than his hair. His face appeared to be carved out of marble as a Greek statue. He was real, though, and staring at me intently.

"Hello." The word came out of my mouth unexpectedly. My natural reaction was to duck my head and blush. It remained still. Odd…

"Hello." The boy's voice was rich and creamy, like the expensive chocolate I sometimes bought.

"What is your name?"

The boy gave me a funny look. "Shouldn't you already know?"

And then it hit me—this was Jace Herondale sitting next to me. Why in the world was he in my dreams?

"Jace Herondale!" If not for the deathly water beneath me, I would have stood up.

Jace cracked a smile. "Hey, Clary."

"What are you doing here?'

"I don't know. This is your dream. Shouldn't you know?"

The question caught me off guard. The dream was slowly slipping away, the picture seeming to be printed on water. It rippled, his inquiring face drifting away…

Simon was next to me. We were on a cliff overlooking a beautiful scenery consisting of stretching evergreens. His hand was in mine.

Simon rubbed tiny circles around on the top of my hand, the motion soothing. His other hand rested on my thigh, his warmth seeping through the denim jeans. Our Converse's touched, our legs brushed. Simon's hot breath was at my ear, whispering sweetly.

"You could give it up for me, Clary." His voice made me shiver. "Everything. The game. Your reputation. Your father."

The thought was extremely appealing. Especially with his thumb tracing lightly across my skin, his fingers resting on my thigh. It felt good. No, it felt _great._

"Mmm…"

"I would never hurt you. Not like any of those guys." Simon lightly kissed my temple. "You would never be hurt again."

I liked my lips and closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling of him. The sound of his voice, soft as a feather. The touch of his skin, warm and tingly.

"You'll be at home with me." Simon began to create a vision for me. "We'll live in a gorgeous Victorian house, the kind you've always wanted. Our kids will be running around on the front yard, their laughter our music. And we'll be sitting there on the porch, hand in hand, watching over our beautiful family as the sun sets. I'll smile at you, and you'll smile at me, then we'll smile at our children."

The scene played out in my head. My heart gave a funny little squeeze when I thought about it. I wanted that life _so bad_. Wanted it so bad it hurt. At that moment, I felt utterly certain that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Simon, to grow old with him, to have a family with him. At that moment, I felt completely and utterly blissful.

I opened my eyes and stared into Simon's.

"And at our wedding," I whispered, my gaze never straying. "I'll say 'I do.'"

I leaned in, and just as our lips were about to touch—

I woke up.


	5. Chapter 4

**Okay, first off, I'm going to respond to a couple of your reviews.**

**Morgead'sgirl—Yes, reality does suck, doesn't it?**

**Miss-smiley-89—Thank you! :)**

**CrazyNerdyFangirl—I'm glad you like it!**

**Dimitri'sBadassChick—Thank you, and I'm trying to speed up the process to get more ClaryxJace in there ;)**

**oxlifeox—Thank you :) I love the way you interpreted this story.**

**ilyPJP19—I love your word chose here: hecka. Lol, I love that word!**

**nixy—I'm updating it nooooooooow! :D**

**Onwards and out!

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**

**I wrote that A/N a very very long time ago. Now, I could give an excuse to you as to why I was gone, but instead I think I'm just going to tell you the flat-out truth of it all. **

**My life is in this chaotic state of disappointment. Nothing is going right these days. Sometimes I just don't even know what I'm doing with my life, why I do what I do. I wish I knew you all in real life—you really are some of the only people who keep me going these days. I cannot express how much you all mean to me. School is finally winding down, so I'll be updating a whole ton more, I PROMISE. Love you all :3

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**

**_1, 2, 3, Turn around_**

**_Don't you watch me now_**

**_Just turn around_**

**_Touch your knees, don't look_**

**_Just turn around_**

**_Do it now-Don't make me count to four_**

**_1, 2, 3, Turn around_**

**_Watch yourself_**

**_Why don't you Turn around_**

**_Can't see you_**

**_I don't Need you around_**

**_Do it now-Walk right through that door  
_**

**CPOV**

I breezed through the school doors like all the other popular people you see in the movies. Everyone parted and my hair blew back from my face in a fiery river. Iz stood on my left and Danielle on my right. We wore our secret smiles and our half-lidded eyes spared glances at a few people. Our heels clicked in sync. Not one person didn't look at us.

We paused at my locker first. I twisted the dial once with the flick of my wrist and pulled the metal door open. I was pulling out books and exchanging materials when I noticed Danielle staring at herself pensively in the tiny green mirror on my locker door. Danielle was someone who we brought into our group because we thought she needed a boost of confidence. However, Danielle was also someone who was fun to talk to until she got her hands on a mirror. We boosted her confidence, alright, but it didn't exactly work out as we planned.

"I love the way my hair looks today. Don't you?" Iz and I exchanged looks. "And this lip gloss is gorge. But is it the wrong color for this eye shadow? Hmph." Danielle's brow furrowed in concentration.

Shoving Dani over a little bit, I shut my locker and continued down the hall towards Izzy's locker. Both girls followed. I got caught up in the looks I was getting today. I felt especially happy today, and that's saying something. I had no idea what had boosted my mood so much. While waving at someone, I forgot to watch where I was going. Fate decided it was a wonderful moment to put someone in my path. And just guess who that someone was.

Jace Herondale grabbed my wrists in a tight grasp to keep me from falling down. I was smashed against his white T that showed off his muscles a tiny bit. I huffed and jerked away. Izzy and Dani both caught my arms. Jace looked down at me, amused. I blew a stray wisp of hair out of my face and glowered at the boy in front of me.

"Would you mind moving?" I asked with a tad bit of venom in my voice. I retrieved my arms from the girls and crossed them.

Jace arched an eyebrow. "Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?"

No. "Yes."

"And where would that be?"

I racked my brain quickly. "Away from you."

Snickers ran through the kids around us. I flashed them a dazzling smile. Some guy winked back.

Jace smiled at me in a way that made my heart jump. The reaction stunned me. I put a hand to my heart and blinked stupidly. Izzy grasped me.

"Are you okay?" She asked me in a concerned whisper.

I looked at her and blinked again. Shook my head. "Uh, yeah," I said slowly. "Yeah."

Her eyes still wore that worried look. "Maybe we should get you to the nurse."

I shook my head. "Let's just go to class."

Pursing her lips, she nodded and let it go for now. Then she stepped in front of me and went on her tip-toes to whisper something fervently in Jace's ear. His face contorted for a second before returning to an expression of a mischievous little boy. I narrowed my eyes. A grin spread on his face by the time Izzy stepped back in line next to me, looking tired.

"Let's go," she said breezily.

I nodded and our group took off towards homeroom. Both girls claimed they could get their stuff later and would rather stay with me and make sure I was okay for now. I protested feebly, but was secretly glad that they stayed with me. I didn't want to think about my reaction to Jace again.

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**JPOV**

I grinned all through the morning thinking of everything I could do to get Clary upset. This morning I decided it was time to start the game. First, I'd apologize to Clary about my oh so rude behavior last night and give her hands the barest of a touch. She'd forgive me and I'd offer to take her to dinner. There, I would seem like Mr. Perfect, the guys she'd been looking for her whole life. I'd toy with her some more, then dump her and leave her in the dust, just another girl, just another memory. It was the perfect plan.

Except something was bringing my mood down. My smile drooped slightly as I thought of what Izzy had whispered to me today in the hallway.

"_I swear to God, Jace Herondale, back away from Clary. She's not what you think she is. She's not _who_ you think she is. You'll only end up getting hurt by this double-edged sword."_

Me being me, I brushed off Izzy's warning. What did she know? She wasn't as good and familiar with the Game as I was. What would she know that I didn't?

I threw my lunch away and headed off to math class, where Clary would be sitting right next to me. My smile grew again. It was the first time I'd ever been excited to go to math.

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**Sorry about the shortness. My stomach started lurching right as I was about to continue writing the next scene, and I just want to put my laptop down and go to sleep before I end up getting sick, if you know what I mean. Ew, I shouldn't think about that. . Anyway, I'll update soon with the scene when Clary and Jace start playing the game on each other ;) Ohh, the excitement. **


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello my lovely, lovely readers! Hope you like this as much as I do :) P.S, sorry about the, like, two-week delay in the update. I had to concentrate on my big end-of-the year project o.e**

**_Let's play a love game, Play a love game_**

**_ Do you want love, Or you want fame_**

_**Or you win the game**_

_**Dans le love game**_

_**Let's play a love game, Play a love game**_

_**Do you want love, Or you want fame**_

_**Or you win the game**_

_**Dans le love game**_

**CPOV**

Dani and I plopped down in our seats across from each other, our heads thrown back with laughter.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

She shook her head and leaned in closer. "I also heard her and Marco got some downstairs." Her eye came down in a suggestive wink.

My mouth made an 'o' and I gripped her arm. "What?"

Dani nodded vigorously. "Yeah—"

"Clarissa." A tingle went down my back at the sound of his smooth voice.

I closed my eyes for a second and removed my hand from Dani's arm to run it through my fiery red curls. I stood from my seat to face Jace in my full height, which was to his shoulders even when in heels. I placed a hand to my hip.

"Clary," I corrected. "Just Clary."

Jace grinned wickedly down at me and opened his mouth to say something when the teacher walked in, clapping her hands.

"Take your seats, take your seats! Yes, that means you, Herondale."

Jace and I sat down and I met eyes with Dani across the table. Putting a hand to the side of my face so Jace couldn't read my lips, I mouthed, "Kill me now." Dani gave a sympathizing cluck of her tongue before turning her attention to the board.

Much sooner than I would have ever hoped for, Ms. Jones ended her lecture and unleashed us on our homework. As I opened my Algebra II book, I prayed Jace would just leave me alone like he usually did. Why had even begun talking to me, anyhow? Both of us kept to our own circles and own antics; it was always an unspoken rule not to mess with each other. But now he keeps bothering me with that silky voice of his and watching me with those gorgeous eyes—

"Clary!"

Irritated, I looked up at Dani. "_What_?"

Eyes wide, she pointed to my pencil. I looked down, confused, to find that I had snapped my pencil in two without realizing. I blinked stupidly at it, not quite knowing what to do next. Finally, I sighed and got up to toss the stick in the trash before asking Dani to borrow one of hers. She obliged with nothing more than a worried look strewn in my direction.

Halfway through the first problem I was assigned for my homework, I felt the heat of Jace's eyes on me. I tensed up and dropped my pencil so I wouldn't break it again. Gritting my teeth, I turned around and faced him. One side of his mouth was tilted up in an amused smile; his honey eyes were alight.

"Can I _help_ you?" I asked.

Jace reached over and untangled a piece of paper from one of my curls. His fingertips grazed my cheek as he drew back, leaving a red-hot trail in their wake. I felt my cheeks heat up slightly and I ducked my head to turn back to my work. Two fingers encircled my wrist and tugged gently. My nose scrunched up slightly as it always did when I was mad, and I looked back at Jace. I radiated annoyance.

"Do you mind?" I looked at Jace's fingers around my wrist.

Instead of letting go, he trailed his hand up to my elbow before coming back down to my hand where he promptly started to toy with my fingers. Every nerve was alight in my body; his eyes never left mine. I started to get heady.

"Clary," he murmured.

It was then that I realized it. How could I have been so ignorant? He was a player just like me, and there is only one thing that he is always after. Jace wanted to play the game with me. In fact, he was playing right now, in front of all my peers, everyone who looked up to me and admired me. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I shut my eyes briefly, wishing with all my heart that Simon was here to comfort me. But alas, he wasn't, and I had to deal with this on my own. My eyes opened up, and I focused all my energy on being the sex symbol everyone knows me to be.

_Bring it, Herondale. _

I brought my cherry-red lips up into a seductive smile and splayed my free hand on Jace's thigh. I looked up at him through my lashes as I marched my fingers slowly up his leg. I saw the startled look in his eyes and mentally cheered.

"Yes?"

Jace quickly regained his composure and leaned even closer to me. "I never noticed how beautiful your eyes are," he commented.

Laughing a tinkling laugh, I retracted my hand from his thigh and threaded it through his golden locks. I stared deep into his eyes and flicked my hair over my shoulder with the flick of my head, revealing some of my cleavage. I silently thanked God that I had worn a low-cut shirt today.

"Oh, Jace." I leaned over to whisper into his ear. "You are so, so _sweet_."

Both of us were reacting to our proximity. I could see it in his eyes; the way he subtly gulped to keep his cool. And, well, I didn't exactly need to be analyzed to figure out that the slight brushes of his body against mine was making me warm all over.

Dani cleared her throat across from us, and Jace and I sprang apart. I met her eyes and saw that she was literally considering my sanity. I mouthed _Tell you later _and she nodded.

Trying to be inconspicuous, I turned my head slightly to glance at Jace and found that he was already staring at me. We looked at each other for an extended period of time before the bell brought us back to reality. I let out a breath and almost sprinted out the door. Half way down the hall, strong callused fingers once again encircled my wrist, wrenching me back in a corner secluded from the bustle of the hall. I met Jace's confident gaze with a sweet but equally confident look of my own.

"Whatever is the matter?" I asked with a fake sugary coating.

Jace crossed his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, looking me up and down. "I believe the only matter here, Clary, is that you and I have never gone out together."

I laughed another one of my musical laughs and leaned against the wall. Most of the students had gone into their next class, encasing the two of us in silence. It was as if we were in our own little world. "Don't try that with me, Jace. I'm not who you think I am."

He arched an eyebrow and a smile tugged at his lips. "Oh really? And who do I think you are?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "You think I'm just another girl. Someone you can pick up, use, and throw away." I took a step forward, giving me the opportunity to lay my hand against his chest. The muscles under his shirt tensed under my touch.

"But in reality, I'm just like you. I tease boys." My fingers brushed along his collarbone.

"I make them think they have a chance with me."

I stood on my tiptoes and leaned into his ear. My lips nearly touched his skin as I whispered, "But then I disappear."

Swiftly, I slid away from Jace's body and resumed my place smiling and leaning against the wall. I grinned at his dumb-founded expression. It gave me pride to see him speechless.

Just as I was about to turn and walk away from him, giving me the perfect picture of a dramatic leave, Jace was suddenly in front of me, blocking my path. He placed his hands on my hips, tugging me slowly towards him. His body radiated warmth, and I had to resist the urge to rest my hands on the muscular arms that encased me. I inclined my head towards him and spread my hands on his chest; I could feel his erratic heartbeat, and I was almost positive he could feel mine. Jace leaned so his lips were at my ear, his hot breath teasing me.

"Girls melt under my gaze, Clary." His lips grazed my temple.

"They fall for me over and over again even though they know I will break their heart." He pulled me harder against him.

"Any girl would die for me."

Winding my arms around his neck, I positioned us so my back was against the wall. Jace placed his hands on either side of my head and bent to nuzzle my neck. It felt so nice, I almost considered giving in to him, letting him lead me on and play with me. But then I remembered I had a title to represent.

I tangled my fingers in his golden curls and placed my lips to the corner of his mouth, giving him a small taste before saying the words that would ultimately ignite the fire.

"Any girl but me."

I pushed away from him and, after giving him a sly smile, shimmied past him and hurried down the hall before he realized what just happened.

And all the while, my heart was screaming for me to run back into his arms.

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**Mmm, yeah, this is a short chapter too. But I didn't really want to go on any longer because I was really content with it and stuff. Anyhow, you're welcome for your first taste at ClaryxJace ;) There will be plenty more to come!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Ahaahaa, I was reading through chapter five the other day and I noticed that I had a little note-to-self thing that I accidentally left in the chapter. I was like, woooopsies, and went in and deleted it out. I should start to read these things before I post them ;)**

**Anyway, since I don't really have access to any of your questions, I can't really answer them right now. So, if you have a question, I'll answer them the next chapter.**

**Also, I would just like to thank you all so, so much because this story just broke 10,000 hits. I love you all!**

**On with the story!**

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_What Kind of Man Lays his Hands on the Woman he Loves_

_Calls her "Angel", but shows no Remorse in her Blood_

_He covers her Body in Bruises and Scars_

_You don't Understand_

_Just how Beautiful_

_You Are_

**CPOV**

It was nice to finally be back at my home again: The Pandemonium.

Izzy and I swayed our hips to the slow, hypnotic beat of the music pumping like blood through a vein in the club. The lights were off today, and the entire club was only illuminated by the strobe lights flashing in all directions. Sweat dripped off our bodies in the enormous heat produced by all the bodies at the club that night. I couldn't help the grin spreading wide upon my face. This is what I lived for. This is why I had become a player. There was just no other experience than the one you get while letting your soul free and your cares drown as you dance and dance and dance. It's like physical art.

"Clary."

I raised my arms high above my head and shut my eyes, letting the music thrum through my body. I let myself lose control and I knew I became detached from most of the world.

"Clary!"

"Hmm?" I answered, my mind faintly registering Izzy's voice beside me.

"You should probably get home. It's past your curfew and besides, Jace will be coming here soon. So unless you want to run into him again…" She trailed off, but I knew the implication she had.

Sighing heavily, I let my hands drop back to my sides before fixing my fiery curls a bit. "Okay," I said grudgingly. "Let's go."

Bobbing her head to let me know she heard me, Izzy started pushing her way through the throngs of people to get to the coat room. I lost her about half way, and before I was even out of the crowd, Izzy had come back to retrieve me, our coats in hand. And so, with much reluctance, we shucked our coats and stepped out into the cold night.

The winter air immediately seeped into my pores and stuck to my bones, winding a chill up my back. Although it was a nice relief from the warm humid air inside the club, I still wished with all my heart I was back inside there dancing along with the crowd and not caring about all the crap that never ceases to live on in my life.

And even though I hated to admit it, sometimes I just didn't feel like life was worth living all that much, what with my dad and all. No one knew about the beatings he gave me; not even Isabelle. I was all too good at hiding each cut and bruise, no matter the size.

As we walked through the chilling late winter night, my mood sobered up to the point of almost depression. Isabelle didn't talk, noticing my sudden change in moods and not wanting to disturb me. My hand ached to get a brush in it and start painting something. I didn't know what exactly, but knew the urge all too much. So I stopped in my tracks, pulling Izzy aside with me.

"What are you doing?" she asked quizzically.

Instead of answering, I just stood and waited. Finally, the yellow paint of a taxi started to pull around the corner at the end of the street. I placed my fingers in my mouth and whistled loud enough to make the taxi ease to a stop at the curb next to us. Digging in my little clutch, I revealed a wad of bills that should cover the fair to Isabelle's house.

"Here," I said as I shoved the money into her hand. "Take the cab home."

"What? Why?"

"I just—" I broke off, trying to come up with the right words to describe how I felt. When I came up with nothing, I just shook my head. "I just need to get home right away."

Her eyes reading concern, she nodded and slid into the cab. And then it was peeling off down the street and was out of my sight. I huffed, my breath coming out in a cloud of hot air. I wasted no time hurrying down the street. I had a long time until I got out of the city and into my neighborhood.

About halfway there, my feet started to hurt like a britch. I groaned, and noted that my pace blatantly slowed. I mentally enthused myself, trying to get my feet to go faster. But for whatever reason, my body just wouldn't listen. I sighed and just stopped altogether, hoping that after a little bit of rest, I'd be ready to continue. And so I slid over to the side and settled myself onto the rough brick wall of some business. Crossing my arms, I tossed my curls over my shoulder with the flick of my head and tried to ward off the cold.

As I got caught up in the puffs of smoke I was making with my breath, I failed to notice the sleek black convertible silently drive up to the curb beside me. It was only when he spoke did I show any signs of noticing the car.

"Clary, what a wonderful surprise."

My eyebrows furrowed and I repositioned my head, startled at the all-too-familiar voice. Sure enough, Jace Herondale had his window rolled down, honey eyes glinting as the smirk on his face widened.

"Jace Herondale," I began, voice as curious as it was bewildered. "What in the _world_ are you doing here?"

He shrugged, though his teasing grin never faded. "The club just didn't seem like my scene tonight."

I attempted to raise one eyebrow, but failed as I always did, ending up with two raised high into my hairline. "Oh? And when did you make that decision?"

"When I noticed you weren't there tonight, sweetie." His eye came down in a wink and he popped open the passenger door. "Come on. Get in."

Rolling my eyes, I climbed in the car, shutting the door gently in my wake. I reached back for my seat belt, and when I brought it down to click it in place, I made sure my hand grazed Jace's thigh. After the belt was locked, I looked up at him through my lashes.

"Whoops," I said, my voice as smooth as silk.

Not missing a beat, Jace captured my chin in his callused hand, keeping my faced just inches away from his. "Yes," he agreed softly. I closed my eyes as his voice seemed to caress my skin. Then, ever-so-gently, I tugged away from him, allowing my fingers to trail along his wiry arms as I sunk back into the leather interior of his car. Jace jerked the car away from the building and flew off down the street.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a moment.

"Elwood Manor."

I faintly saw the outline of his brow arch up in question through the poor lighting. "Elwood Manor?"

I nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. "My dad made a lot of good…investments."

Jace didn't leave my pause unnoticed. "Investments?"

"Yeah." I worried a strand of my hair in between two fingers. "I'm not really allowed to say much about it."

He took a lengthy side-long glance at me out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the road. It was obvious he wanted to know, but I wasn't about to relent. I was serious when I said I wasn't allowed to say anything.

"What about you?" I asked more for a way to break the silence than out of curiosity. "Where do you live?"

He laughed humorlessly. "In some crappy apartment not too far from where you live."

"Archridge or Sandler?"

"Archridge."

I looked at him funny. "That's nowhere near where I live!"

He smiled boyishly at me. "Yeah, but I didn't want you to worry about me driving you so far out of my way."

I didn't know why, but I blushed. How did he know that one of my biggest problems was people going out of my way for me? Not only that, but it was extremely considerate, and, well, sweet.

The rest of the ride was spent in a comfortable silence that was only shaken up when I Jace halted in front of my home. The lights were on. My face drained of all color.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jace asked, taking careful note of my immediate change in mood.

I put on my usual façade, paint a smile on my lips and looking at him with wide eyes. "Of course I am. Thank you for the ride, Jace. I'll see you at school tomorrow." Quickly gathering up my clutch, I unlocked the door and hopped down.

As I padded swiftly across the dead front lawn, I heard a car door open and shut. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that Jace would go back to the car. But alas, his hand cupped itself around my elbow, pulling me around to face him. His eyes rimmed with worry, he gazed down at me. After a second, I cast my eyes downward and yanked my elbow free, pushing on his chest.

"Go back to the car," I ordered. When he opened his mouth to protest, I set my mouth in a taught line. "_Now_," I said more firmly.

He hesitated, but finally relented and reluctantly headed back to his car. I didn't watch him drive away.

Taking a deep breath, I walked towards my door, not unlike Jace just had. Bracing my body, I stuck in the key and turned the knob. The door flew open. I took one small step inside. The door clicked softly behind me.

"So nice of you to finally join me, Clarissa."

I cringed. My father's voice drifted in from the kitchen, cold as the icy air outside. I ducked my head, allowing my hair to create a thick red curtain all around me. If only it could protect me for what was about to come.

"Please, remove your coat and shoes. I'd like to see you."

"If—If I may, could I leave my coat on?" I asked. My voice was as small as a child's. I felt like a child.

I could almost feel his penetrating gaze on me. "What would be your reasoning behind that?"

"It's just…terribly cold."

I heard the settling of a crystal glass on wood. He had been drinking. Just as I had suspected. "Yes, well, considering you braved the cold while you were out all night, I'm betting you can survive. Now do as I said."

"Yes, father," I replied meekly.

I took my heels off first, sliding a finger under the strap and yanking it down before setting each on the floor beside each other. I sank to the ground, and, under a more comfortable circumstance, I would have sighed with relief. But now I just gulped, my fingers hovering above the first button of my coat.

"Any day now," he called.

Flinching slightly with each button, I reluctantly undid my coat and slid it off of my body and onto a hook. Then, taking careful, but deliberate steps, I sauntered into the kitchen. My arms absently curled around the middle of my stomach in a futile attempt at hiding the fact that I was wearing a midriff top. At the same time, I tugged down my skirt as far as it would go; though it wasn't much of a change. I calmed myself slightly with that fact that at least I was wearing black tights. But even as I told myself that, my heart began beating faster and faster in my chest as my father rose from his seat to tower above me.

Empty bottles lay everywhere along with tipped over glasses and knocked over furniture. Stains covered the floor, though I was mostly sure the majority were all alcohol. Which, by the way he smelled, wouldn't surprise me.

I tried not to breathe in the putrid stench of alcohol and sweat. It was the worst combination I had yet to come by, and yet, it was a common presence in my life.

He circled around me, his silence seeming the most deadly of anything he could have said. He crooked a finger around one of my curls for a second, but then released it. He fingered the fabric of my top and made a disgusted noise.

"I could buy you all of the clothes you wanted, Clarissa, and _this_," he gestured revoltingly at my garments, "is what you choose?"

Father came to a stop in front of me. There, he looked me dead in the eyes. "Although, I suppose I expect nothing less from a whore."

I didn't feel the pain right away. Instead, there was just the flash of many colors splashing across my vision, and then I was tumbling down to the hard linoleum floor below. My hands flew out instinctively and just barely cushioned my fall, though not very well. I blinked several times, trying to regain my senses. It took me a minute, but when I finally got back to normal, the pain hit me like a semi heading straight-on into my body.

It was a sharp pain on my right temple that expanded and bloomed out to around my eye and into the mass of my hair. Blood was felt dripping down my face, and I knew that not only did he bruise me, but he also cut me. I gingerly turned my head to discover the jagged half of a broken beer bottle held in my father's hand, and I knew it was with that that he struck me. Something told me that when I would go to clean my cut out later, I'd find tiny shards of the bottle wrenched inside my cuts. I winced just thinking about it.

My abdomen exploded with pain, and I couldn't help but cry out, stunned. I had not expected my father to come at me so quickly after the last hit. My hands clutched at my stomach, and knew there was going to be a dark, menacing bruise there within the next couple of days.

My father leaned down, his hot sticky breath at my ear. "Can't wear skimpy clothes when you have all those bruises."

And, as if to prove his point, his booted foot came down on the flesh of my thigh, slowly pressing down harder and hard. I gasped and scratched at his boot, trying desperately to get it off me. My muscles screamed with pain, but I refused to scream. My father smiled viciously, watching me squirm for a few more seconds before releasing me.

I instantaneously rolled over to the other side, my body curling in on itself. I shook slightly and for whatever reason, I suddenly wished Jace was here.

Father nudged me with the toe of his cruel boot. "Go upstairs, girl. I don't want to see your face for the next twenty-four hours." He paused; considered. "Possibly even more. You got that?"

I nodded weakly. "Yes, father."

"Good. Now get out of my face."

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**And there it is. It's up a little later than I had expected, but I got unexpectedly caught up in some crap today, and I've just been worn out. Although, I am really satisfied with this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Er, well, not enjoyed, but you get what I mean.**

**Next chapter will be mainly focused on Clary again, and will most likely be short. I guess it depends if I'm feeling generous that day or not ;)**

**Review to get a little taste of Jace's mind again next chapter :)**

***Shiver***


	8. Chapter 7

**Hey guys!**

**Sorry for the extremely late update D: Life came crashing down on me, and, well, yeah. Didn't have much inspiration.**

**Review Time :3**

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**MaxWaylanGrey—Haha, I'm much a grammar freak myself, so don't even worry ;) And thank you :)**

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**Dreamlesssleeper8—Good! I'm glad I'm keeping you guessing ;D**

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**Phew. That was a lot of responses xD**

**If you ever have a question, leave it in a review, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible ;D**

**Onwards and Out!**

* * *

**JPOV**

When I flung open the door to my shabby apartment, I did not expect to see my sister awake and slightly coherent at the kitchen table. Arianne didn't look up as I came in, though I know she heard me. She sat in a dirty chair, running her finger along the rim of a shot glass. I slammed the door shut and locked it. Took off my coat.

Considering the fact the Arianne had yet to approach me, I figured that maybe she'd just let me go today. So without further ado, I casually attempted to walk pass the kitchen and to my room. It worked at first.

Abruptly, Arianne stood, the chair toppling over with a bang. I stopped dead in my tracks, heart constricting. Slowly, I turned to face her; held my head high and met her eyes levelly.

"Where—were—you?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"What do you care? You're too drunk to notice most of the time anyway," I growled.

Quicker than my eye could follow, Arianne appeared in front of me, wound up her fist, and plowed into me. Her knuckles cracked as they met me square across the face. My head snapped back just as she landed another blow to my stomach, crashing me into the wall. I slumped on the solid surface, clutching my stomach, letting blood trickle down my face.

I shut my eyes and tried to breathe normally. I needed to escape, free myself from this ridiculous place if just for tonight.

Without a second thought, I pushed myself off the wall and headed towards my room. Arianne's voice followed me all the way down.

"Where do you think you're going? I never dismissed you! Get back over here _now_, you bastard!"

Ignoring the hyena-like voice she possessed, I snatched up my book bag and rammed my computer, along with an extra couple pairs of T's, inside. Slinging it over my shoulder, I promptly left everything I knew for the time being.

Arianne attempted to grab me by the scruff of my shirt, but I shoved her away. There was no reason to let her push me around anymore. If she wanted to be a drunk and waste her life, then she can be my guest. But she was _not_ bringing _me_ down with her.

The apartment door slammed shut behind me, and I punched the button for the elevator. Entered it.

As the doors closed, I banged my head against the wall once and let the tears fall.

* * *

The cab let me out at an old, run-down studio not terribly far from where I lived. Tossing the driver a wad of bills, he drove off, leaving me in stark solitary. I stared up at the medium-sized red-brick building with the last strands of hope threading through my eyes.

Stepping up the two stairs to the seemingly boarded-up door was like coming home. I yanked the silver chain from my neck and stuck the key hanging from the end in the door. Swung it open and stepped inside. The door slammed shut in my wake.

For a moment, I was pooled in darkness. I stood there like that, motionless, thoughtless, until I brought myself to grope for the light-switch that I knew wasn't too far away. Sure enough, my hands found purchase, and I flicked on the fluorescent bulbs, lighting up a huge, empty, garage-looking room, its only occupant a sole grand piano in the center of the room.

My bag slipped from my shoulder, dropping like a dead weight to the floor. Without taking my eyes off the piano, I ambled over to it and took a seat. I sunk into the cushiony bench, my fingers immediately finding their place on the keys, my feet placed at the ready above the pedals.

I shut my eyes.

Then began to play.

My fingers spilled across the keys as if they were liquid emotion, never once slipping up or making a mistake. I moved with the music, relishing in the way the notes seemed to wrap around me and encase me in an invisible shield, protecting me from all my troubles. Music flooded up the room until I could no longer hear my thoughts, no longer feel solid. I felt free; light as a feather. There was nothing to compare to the way I felt when I sat down to play the piano.

Suddenly, amongst all of that freedom, there was something tethering me down, keeping me real. An image popped up in my head, nearly taking my breath away.

Clarissa Fray's fiery hair and bright green eyes appeared behind my lids. She was smiling, soft lips tilted up in the sweetest gesture I had ever seen. Her hand unfolded towards me, reaching, asking.

She didn't want me to leave.

Somewhere inside of me, I felt a part of me reach out towards her. Her smile became sweeter yet, her eyes softening ever-so-slightly. And then she was coming closer, still reaching out, still wearing that adorable smile that made my heart melt.

My fingers slipped on the sleek surface of the glossy keys, breaking my revere. My breath came out in pants; my palms were damp with sweat. Wiping my hands off on my jeans, I stood from my position at the piano and rushed across the room to my computer. Opened it up.

The instant my webpage loaded up, I keyed in the address for my blog. The page popped up immediately, a computerized greeting standing out at the top to help me feel welcome at my own blog. Annoyed with the cheery greeting, I roughly clicked the "New Entry" button harder than necessary.

Swiping some stray strands of hair out of my eyes, I started to type.

**Anyone else surprised that I had, yet again, another suckish day? **

**Yes, before you even ask, I'm going to admit that my sister has roughed me up quite a bit again. I'm predicting a slight black eye and gigantic naval bruising for the forecast tomorrow morning. You cannot imagine the joy I am experiencing right now. **

**Now, toning down my severe case of sarcasm, I feel like I have to reach out to you guys and ask you some advice. **

**I'm sure you all are familiar with my reputation as the biggest player in school. And if you tuned in last post, you'd have learned that there is now a second player just like myself, only perhaps a tad bit worse. I'm still debating. In any case, these days I've been, well, seeing her. Not, like, dating or anything, but **seeing** her; in my dreams, when I close my eyes, in a crowd of people. I feel as though she's become some sort of drug to me. I have become obsessed with the idea of showing her I can be a better player than her, so we've been toying with each other lately. And the more time I spend with her, the more caught up I get in her eyes, her hair, her scent, her quirky come backs that really take her forever to come up with, though she'd never let anyone know.**

**I'm such a stalker. **

**Anyway, the advice. What should I do about this chick?**

**Cause, I'm going to be honest—I'm jacked up straight confused.**

**Oh, and sis, if you're reading this: I won't be coming home for a while, so good luck paying the bills.**

**~ShadowsAngel**

* * *

**This is short ): Not to mention not very good xD But like I said earlier, I'm running on lack of inspiration here. I'm planning to have both Clary and Jace's POV in the next chapter. We'll see what happens though. **

**Review? :)**

**~Shiver**


	9. Chapter 8

**Hi guys (:**

**I'm late again, I know. But school and drama like to consume me to no end ;) I'm sure a handful of you faithful readers know what I'm talking about.**

**No answers today :( Too tired to go look 'em up. But I did remember the song this time ;)**

_Why Did You Left Me Alone_

_I Would Change for You_

_Why Don't You Just go Home_

_I Want You to_

_But the Days Feel Longer_

_The Hate Grows Stronger_

_And There is Nothing More_

_Than a Broken Heart_

_My Tears are Gone Now_

_The Years will Break Us Apart_

_I'll Take This All into My Grave_

_Cause Memories will Never Fade Away_

**Enjoy :)**

**CPOV**

I clicked out of Shadow's Angel's blog, my body feeling like a dead weight. Even though he was going through the same pain as me, I found no comfort in it tonight. If I could talk face-to-face with him, maybe. But I knew that was a ridiculous, wishful, wasteful thought, so I shoved it out of my mind.

Flopping down onto my bed, I toyed with the fur on one of my pillows and fantasized what Shadow's Angel looked like. My imagination came up with a devishly handsome boy. He was 6foot 1inch with dark chocolate locks. He had emerald green eyes as bright as mine that burned through the darkness.

I sighed dreamily and rolled onto my stomach, burying my face in the mass of pillows I had.

Isabelle had once asked me why I had so many pillows. I told her then that it was because they were the most important piece in decorating.

I lied.

The real reason is because of nights like these when I'm feeling so mangled and broken. I can fall into the mess of pillows, close my eyes, and pretend that they are the warm embrace of my missing mother.

* * *

I woke up the next morning feeling dead and unprepared to go to school. My fingers fumbled blindly for the hand mirror I usually kept on my bedside table. Once I had a grip on its smooth handle, I struggled up into a sitting position and tried to gather the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I instantly regretted it.

I glared at my reflection.

It glared right back.

In the mirror was a mangled Raggedy-Ann with green eyes. Her face was a collection of blue and purple splotches. Dried blood was crusty in her hair with a small amount on her face. Her skin was ghastly, her hair resembling ravaged yarn. Her eyes held no life.

I allowed the mirror to slip from my grasp. It clattered noisily on the hardwood floor.

Finally, ever so finally, I decided to get up and get ready for the day even though every cell in my body refuted the idea. I didn't bother with a shower that morning. Instead, I gathered my curls into a tight knot at the back of my head and used gel to force the fly-aways in place.

Feeling exhausted, I studied my bruises for a few seconds before beginning to sift through my makeup for what I referred to as my "bruise makeup". It consisted of the heaviest, darkest foundation I could wear on my pale skin, heavy powder, and a heavy-duty concealer stick. Moving as if I was stuck in honey, I applied the finishing touches to my Raggedy-Ann look.

At 7:55, when I was almost done, my cell phone began to buzz. I put my concealer stick down and answered the phone with a fakely cheery, "Hello?"

"Clary!" Izzy's voice pierced through my ears. "You ready to go, hon? I'm picking you up today to pay you back for the cab last night."

Setting the phone down, I put it on speaker and continued applying my concealer.

"That's okay, Iz. I can drive myself."

"I know you _can_, but you won't."

"Iz, really—"

"Nope. I'm coming over, and you better be ready."

She hung up.

Having no other way to argue my way out of this one, I swiftly finished up my makeup, packed up the rest of my bag, and got dressed. I was slipping out the door with a granola bar hanging out of my mouth when Izzy's sleek silver convertible pulled up beside the curb. Stealthily shutting and locking the door as to not wake my dad, I tip-toed down the walkway to her car.

The Lightwoods had money. Not as much as my father had, but they were still well off, and lived in the Lightwood Manor a bit away from my own manor. Jace Herondale did not have money. At least, I didn't think he did.

I thought about him as I slid into the car and slammed the door. Jace walked and talked as if he _did_ have money, but when I was complaining to Izzy one day about his boastfulness, she admitted that Jace only _pretended_ to have money. Her confession was only accented when I had found out where he lived the previous night. The part of town where he resided was not the prettiest side, to say the least.

"You're awfully quiet." Izzy interjected my thoughts as she pulled to a smooth stop at a red light.

"Just tired," I said.

"Oh."

Once the car lurched into motion, Izzy launched into an extremely descriptive tale on the oh-so-exciting adventure she and Curt had in math class yesterday. I patiently tuned her out and spaced out the rest of the drive. Izzy had to call my name several times when we got to school before I came out of my thoughts.

"Jeez, Clary," she said to me as we got out of the car. "You sure are out of it today."

I shrugged and shielded my eyes from the sun. I didn't feel any further response was necessary.

We found Dani leaning against the doors with a very lazy smile on her lips that reminded me of a lion that had just eaten. Her golden curls shone in the sunlight, and though I couldn't see her eyes through the dark lenses perched on her nose, I knew she had seen us.

Sure enough, the moment we walked past her, she fell into step with us, flanking me just as Izzy did. The three of us glided through the doors as always and were greeted with sweet hellos. Though every pore in me wanted to smack all of them for being so damn happy, I grinned back and politely returned their gestures.

As per usual, we stopped by my locker first. I exchanged a few books and swapped out the red lipstick in my bag for a coral shade.

Shutting my locker, I looked at Dani. "Mind if I use the mirror in your locker?"

Leaning against the lockers and still looking like a pristine version of Cheshire the cat, she lilted her lips up at me sweetly. "Sure thing, doll," she said.

I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes at Dani. Something was up. Her entire attitude seemed to have changed.

Sensing the change in my mood, she lifted her lenses into her hair and stood up straighter. She met my eyes levelly.

"Is there something wrong, Clary?"

I titled my head back slightly, regarding, my posture stiff and dominating. "I'm fine," I said coolly.

Her lashes fluttered. "Good to hear."

Izzy took a deep sip from her latte and glanced between us through slitted eyes. We made eye contact and I simply shrugged, for I had no reasonable answer to offer up to her.

"Alrighty," Izzy said breezily. "Let's continue on, shall we?"

I gave a crisp nod and resumed my place in our usual formation. I couldn't help but notice the unusual, hair-raising proximity Dani had to me.

* * *

**JPOV**

I had skipped school.

Sitting there, my head tapping lightly against the cool concrete wall of the studio, I just didn't feel like I had the energy to go through the intricate motions of a regular school day. Not to mention the fact that I had no idea what I would do if I saw Clary. I figured it would be a good thing for me to have a break from her for one day.

Without another thought, I bounded out onto the busy Manhattan streets, hands shoved deep in the pockets of my coat to ward off some of the chilling breeze.

My mind wandered as I walked. I thought about my guilty-pleasure series: Harry Potter. Somewhere at the back of my head, I realized I had begun to walk as though I actually was Harry Potter; it was a nasty habit of mine to get involved with a book to the point of getting inside the character's mind set.

And thus, much to my shameful pleasure, I began to imagine myself rushing down these very sidewalks, pushing and tossing people aside as I produced my wand from the depths of my coat and begin casting spells at Malfoy.

Smack in the middle of the war between Malfoy and myself in my head, I realized where I was. Somehow, during all of my mind ramblings, I had ended up in the midst of a dark alley. I sighed and gently kicked a can from my path. It scuttled across the bricks and ran into some other trash, creating a clatter.

Which direction did I—

Within two seconds, I was lying on the ground, groaning, and wondering what had just happened. I blinked hard and shook my head a bit. Looked up. A form obscured by the sun loomed over me. I raised myself onto my elbows and shielded my eyes from the bright light to get a better look at whoever had tackled me.

I had to bite my lip to prevent my giggles from escaping once I saw him.

Standing before me was a tall, scrawny boy about my age. He had shaggy brown hair and muddy brown eyes rimmed with the shiny metal of glasses. The muscles in his arms resembled doughnuts. And not even the regularly-sized doughnuts, but rather the munchinks that everyone loves to buy for their kids at Dunkin Doughnuts. And yet, this child, draped in a Star Trek shirt, was glaring down at me as if I just took his candy.

"Mind telling me why exactly you tackled me to this filthy floor?" I asked.

"What're you doing here exactly?" he retorted.

I heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Listen, kid; I don't have time for your little games. Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"Do you always only answer things with new questions?"

"Are you always such a dick?"

"Only on days that end in 'y', my friend." I said, getting up and facing the kid in my full height. He took a step back, but didn't soften his face.

"You gonna answer my question?" he asked.

"Are you going to answer mine?" I retorted.

Looking away and crossing his arms over his chest in a stance similar to mine, the kid snorted. "Whatever. Just get out of here."

"Not until you answer my question," I said.

He looked back at me and stared levelly at me for a moment. Finally, he said, "Alright. This is my alley. It's where I go for peace of mind. I don't need jack-assed jocks like you trying to take over it."

I chortled. "Jock?" Clapped my hands together a couple times. "Jeez, kid, do you even go to high school around here?"

He paused. "Well no, I'm home schooled."

I stopped laughing. Crossed my arms again. "If you're home schooled, then what're you doing out in an alley at 10:00 in the morning? Shouldn't you be learning two plus two equals four with your mom, kid?"

His nose scrunched up a little bit, a trait I couldn't help but notice was very similar to Clary's. I nearly groaned at the thought.

"Stop calling me kid," he said. "My name's Simon."

"Alright, Simon, shouldn't you be at home learning?"

Simon was silent. He wouldn't meet my eyes. I could tell he was trying to think up an answer to the question, but I wasn't about to take any excuses. Especially from this kid.

"Does your mom really home school you, Simon?"

After a moment, he gently shook his head.

I mentally sighed because I knew what I had to do next; I had to repair someone even though I'm still broken. And the entire time, I'll be wishing someone would repair _me._

With my foot, I scooted a flattened box over and sat down on it and looked pointedly at the spot beside me. Simon sat down. For a moment we both just stared at the wall ahead of us in stony silence we both had to collect our thoughts and get our feelings in check.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" I asked finally.

"I dropped out of high school sophomore year when my mom got sick. She had cancer, and with my dad gone, I was the only one to take care of her. She tried hard to keep quizzing me randomly to keep my mind focused on school, but soon I just stopped answering. It was like my mind had gone numb.

"She passed away 5 months before junior year, but at that point renrolling in school was the furthest thing in my mind. So I just didn't.

"The house was finally taken away six months ago. All of my mom's money had run out. I've just been hanging out here and in clubs when I get the chance ever since."

I nodded slowly, digesting all the new information. There wasn't much I could say. I had no experience with mothers, of with comforting others.

But suddenly, I knew exactly what to say, and the words started spilling from my mouth before I could even think about stopping them.

"My mom left me and my sister when I was five. She told us she was going to the supermarket and would be back later, but she never came back.

"For a couple years, my sister tried coping with everything and actually tried to be a motherly figure for me, but once she discovered how amazing alcohol and drugs were, well, it was all downhill from there."

I rested my head back against the wall and shut my eyes. My forearms rested lightly on the tops of my knees.

"Now we live in some shitty apartment, and she beats me whenever she's not passed out from alcohol."

"Is that why you're here? Because she won't let you go to school?" Simon asked.

I chuckled bitterly. "No. No, she enrolls me in school every year. Probably to keep the cops off her back."

He was confused. "Then why aren't you in school today?"

"Because she, my sister, tried beating me last night and I had finally gotten my hands on a spare place so I took off. Today's my mental health day. Been thinking too much."

"About a girl?"

I crack open my eyes, looking at him through the corners. "How'd you guess?"

Simon shrugged. "Guess I can just relate, and spot all the suckers out there that are just like me."

I brought my head up and banged it gently against the wall a couple times, mulling everything over, trying to think of something to say that was in any way competent and meaningful. In the end, I came up with the simplest question a man could ever think of.

"Does this feeling ever go away?"

Simon gazed off into the distance, obviously thinking about the girl he was wishing for. "You mean the one where you feel lost in a sea of nothing but her and can't quite get a grasp on reality?"

Awestruck that he had guessed almost my exact feelings, I nodded.

"No. Not that I've ever experienced, anyway. Been pining over the same girl most of my life, and that's still how I feel."

"Have you ever told her how you feel?"

Simon squinted. "Not really. Sort of. She's kind of—caught up a bit too much in all of the other guys she sees than to hear me when I say it, you know?"

I laughed. "Oh, she'll come around eventually. They always do."

"I hope your right," he murmured.

I tried to make my voice positive. "Hey, you'll see. Anyway, I've got to get going. See you around, kid."

Simon glared. "Yeah, see you, pretty boy."

I grinned wickedly and rounded the corner of the alley to merge back in with the massive sea of people passing by.

* * *

**Wicked props for the chapter upload? ;D**

**Review?(:**

***Shiver***


	10. Chapter 9

**School starts tomorrow. So naturally I stayed up late to shove out one last chapter before the Destruction of Thy Humanity—aka school.**

**On a side note, I just found this chapter's song, like, three days ago, and as soon as I heard it I knew it was destined to be in a Love Game's chapter. I was right.**

**Enjoy(:**

* * *

_Who are you anyways?  
I can't count how many days you weren't here.  
The walls were closing in on me,  
But I don't live in there no more._

_There's a place in my head_  
_That repeats what you said,_  
_That repeats what you said that day._

_You're afraid the mistakes that you made_  
_Dug your grave but baby,_  
_That's the price you pay._

_So don't shut down this town,  
Ain't big enough for both of us, whoa._

_All the pictures and the windows on the wall  
Are closing in on me  
I thought that you're supposed to learn from  
What went wrong in history.  
So you keep doing everything you can  
And never will get to me.  
I bet you remember the day you were better  
As soon as we severed  
And you were free_

**CPOV**

As sad as it sounded, the majority of my day was spent dreading Algebra II. By the time second the bell rang for seventh period, my heart lurched into my throat, choking me. I was so distracted that I didn't even care about the fact that Dani was obviously staring at me out the corner of her eyes as we dutifully sashayed down the hall.

Much to my relief, Jace's seat was empty when I first walked in. Wiping my damp palms on the slick denim of my dark-wash skinny jeans, I exhaled a shaky breath and took my proper seat across from Dani and waited sulkily for the moment when Jace would saunter into the classroom.

That moment never came.

Before I knew it, the bell was shrieking, signaling the start of the period. My eyes flickered over to his seat, wondering if I had somehow missed him coming it, but I found it vacant. Although I wouldn't put it past Jace to be late to class, I had never once seen him late to class before. He was a surprisingly punctual person, despite popular belief.

My gut twisted the further we ventured into the period without Jace, my eyes consistently flitting over to his empty seat. I had just seen him the night before and he had looked perfectly fine. What could have happened to him in the middle of the night? Maybe he had gotten the stomach flu. Or maybe he was ditching seventh period to hook up with some poor girl in one of the broom closets. Or—

Abruptly, I was wrenched from my thoughts as a paper ball came sailing across the table at me. It hit me directly in the eye, making me flinch back sharply. Dani was smirking pleasantly at me, tapping one perfectly manicured finger on the table where the paper had dropped. Shooting her a slicing glare, I took the ball into my hands and began to unravel it, careful to glance over my shoulder to make sure Ms. Jones was still concentrated on the board.

_Worried about your new boy toy?_ _Don't bother—he's probably just tired after our _long_ night together._

My jaw fell slack as I gaped at the purple, swirling cursive. A flame of anger ignited inside me, the paper accidentally getting crumpled in my clenching fists. I whipped my head up at Dani, who met my burning eyes with a gaze so innocent it was hard to believe the connection I was beginning to make inside my head.

"We're talking after class," I hissed under my breath at her. The only response I got was a leisurely, knowing wink.

I only had to wait five minutes before the period was over. With the ear-piercing ring of the bell still floating through my ears, I shoved back from my chair, the legs groaning against the linoleum. Turning on my heel with my books in hand, I glided out of the room, not bothering to see if Dani was following me.

A serious case of déjà vu passed over me as I rounded the corner to the exact spot where Jace and I had our little moment the other day. I backed up to the corner of the seclusion, tapping my foot impatiently. A full minute had to have passed before a very relaxed, very pleased Dani popped into view, twisting a long strand of caramel hair around her finger.

Tucking her bedazzled cell into the hem of her skirt, she smiled sweetly at me. Her muddy brown eyes twinkled. "What's up, Clary? Want all the nasty details of what happened between Jace and me? Trust me when I say they are to _die _for."

I set my mouth in a straight line, refusing to show that what she just said had truly troubled me. Instead, I got right to the point, "What on earth is your problem today?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she lied, face slipping into a mask of calmness.

I took a threatening step forward, heels stabbing into the linoleum. "Cut the crap, Danielle." The late bell trilled, but neither of us moved. A detention was the last thing on both of our minds.

Dani had a hiss on her tongue that you could practically see, but she bit it back hastily. She hated her full name, that much she made known to us the first day we met her. And up until then, I respected her wish since I could I identify with her.

But I was quickly figuring out that things were changing. Whether they were good or bad, though, I wasn't sure.

"I don't know who you think you are," I continued, "but you better remember who _I _am. Whatever act you're trying to pull lately, I'm not in the mood for it, so put an end to it." I paused, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at Dani in a way that made me appear as though I was looming over her. "Or I will put an end to _you_."

Eyes narrowing into slits, Dani stepped so close to me that our noses were practically touching. I held my stance, nose crinkling. She leaned her perfectly glossed lips in towards my ear, hushing her tone.

I expected her to threaten me, to rebut my words, but instead she said the last thing I ever expected to hear from anyone, let alone vain, self-centered Dani.

"I know your secret."

Too stunned to say anything, I let Dani snake away from me; I watched her slither down the hall blankly, feeling more hollow, more afraid than I ever thought possible. Her whisper fluttered like rampant butterflies around inside me, swirling higher and higher to smother every coherent thought I had. Pressing my back tight up against the chilling gray lockers, I allowed myself to slide down the length of them until I was resting on the floor.

So Dani had found out that my father beats me. I had no idea how she found out; I certainly never said anything about it. All this time, all the precautions I took to make sure that no one would ever know—all if it flew out the window in a split second.

Suddenly the hallway seemed all too small. The walls were encroaching on my tiny frame, the ceilings pressing down on my chest to restrict my breath. I was heaving by the time I gathered enough sense to leave the school. A cold sweat had broken out on my forehead, dampening my precariously-styled hair as I scrambled to my feet and staggered down the hall.

I didn't have a particular direction or mind of where I was going. All I knew was that I had to leave, get away from life for a few hours. I could already feel my fragile walls crumbling around me as I ran, legs pumping hard and steady despite the heels strapped to my feet. Tears started to stream down my pale, freckled cheeks, most likely smearing all the makeup I had so tediously applied that morning.

My security was lost. The last thing I had to hold on to was the safety of my classmates; all were so blissfully oblivious to my home life, making it all too easy for me to let go and pretend like I didn't know about it either. For the majority of the day, I could be someone I wasn't. I was no longer the girl that got beat for every miniscule mistake she made; instead, I was the girl everyone else wanted to be, the girl every guy swooned over…the girl that had no problems.

The second I shoved my way through the school doors, the first of the sobs strangled its way out of my throat. I nearly collapsed on the freshly-cut grass then and there, but I forced myself on. Tendrils of my hair spilled out of my bun as I scurried across the school grounds, sticking to me from the cold sweat beading on my skin.

In a city that was nothing if not bustling with hordes of people at all hours, where could I go? My father stayed home during the day, so home was not an option. There were no forests I could go get lost in, no prairies or rolling fields.

However, there was one place that was never occupied, spare the stray homeless person and scrounging animal: alleyways.

With a set destination in mind, I changed direction to head towards the ever-active streets of the city. Though I received a surplus of versatile looks ranging from confused to utterly terrified, I never once paused. Even with my heels slipping and stumbling along the concrete, it was mere minutes before I found myself ducking into the welcoming embrace of an alley's shadows. After checking for rabid animals, I scurried behind a garbage dumpster and sagged on the floor.

Now that I was alone in my own pity, I was free to wallow. I embraced the choking sobs that racked through me, not even bothering to wipe at the tears rolling off my chin onto the scum-covered ground beneath me. The last of my walls turned to crumbs around me, showing a vulnerable side of me that no one had ever seen before. Burying my head in my hands, I allowed for myself to be as loud and obnoxious as I wanted, not caring that I was crying so hard I shaking.

After a long, long while, my body finally ran dry of tears. I was left feeling hollow down to my bones, and sucked free of energy. I had every idea to just stay there for the rest of the afternoon; aside from the cold, dirty brick ground that was no doubt soiling my over-priced jeans, it was a pretty comfortable place to be alone.

Just as I was beginning to accept my position, I heard a scuffle off to the side. My head whipped up, eyes snapping open and flitting around the expanse of the alley. At the mouth of lane was a tall, lanky silhouette.

Immediately, I got to my feet and started to scuttle away in the opposite direction of the form.

"Clary?"

I froze dead in my tracks, just a few feet away from the exit. That was a voice I would never be able to mistake—it was the voice of my best friend.

Turning slightly, I looked back. Sure enough, he stepped further into the alley, exposing the rest of his face. "Simon!"

Without even thinking about it, I covered the distance separating us and threw myself into his arms. Simon squeezed me tightly against him without hesitation, burying his face in my hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still locked in our embrace. "I thought I heard someone crying over here."

I refused to answer. If I said anything, Simon would know I was lying; he had a special knack for just knowing me like that. Instead, I clutched him tighter, and he instantly got the underlying meaning.

"What happened?" His voice dripped with concern.

My lip began to tremble, making me eternally grateful that I had my face blocked in the soft cotton of his Star Trek tee. "Nothing," I lied feebly, sniffing. I pulled back from the hug and regarded him warily. "What are you doing out here? Shouldn't your mom being teaching you?"

Simon stirred, kicking his ratty black Converse in the dirt. He stared past me at the sidewalks teeming with people yammering away on cell phones and rushing to get to work. I could tell he was biting at the inside of his cheek, a habit he acquired when deep in thought.

"I think it's time that I tell you something, Clary," he said at last. His entire face was drained of color.

A crease formed between my brows. "I already know everything about you."

Simon shook his head, mangy brown locks sprawling about his face messily. "No, I've been keeping something from you for a long time now. Probably longer than what's fair."

I rubbed his arm sympathetically. "You can tell me anything, Simon. You know that."

Nodding, he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Remember how my mom has had cancer for a while?"

"Of course." I paused, biting my lip, afraid of my next question. "She's still doing okay, right?"

He was silent for a long moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Finally, he ducked his head down, speaking towards the garbage on the ground. I had to lean forward to even begin to hear the words tumbling past his lips.

"My mom died this summer, Clary."

I gasped, stumbling back a pace, hand clasped tightly over my mouth. My heart gave a hard squeeze as I felt a dry sob pass through me. Simon tilted his head up enough to give me a good look at how broken he was feeling at that moment.

It was as broken as I felt every day of my life.

An unspoken understanding passing between us, we slammed into each other, both of us grasping on to the other for dear life. No tears slipped down my cheeks then—I was far too empty to force any out—but Simon knew how bad I was hurting. His mother was the mother I never had. She always made room for me, always made me feel welcome, always held her arms wide open. There would never be a woman as caring and selfless as she was.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered after a while.

"Because it would have made it true."

I shut my eyes against his bleeding tone. "Are you still staying at home?" I felt the movement of him shaking his head back and forth, and I yanked back, eyes wide. "Then where are you living, Simon?"

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes, and gestured around him. "Welcome to my home."

My eyes popped out and I gave him a little shove. "You can't live out here! It's going to be winter soon, and then what? You'll freeze to death!"

"I have nowhere else to go," he said, frowning.

"I won't stand for that." I crossed my arms over my chest, raising my nose in the air to let him know I meant business. "You're going to stay with me."

The second the words left my mouth, Simon started vigorously shaking his head. "No. No, Clary. You know how mad your dad would get if he figured out I was living with you. I'm not going to put you in danger."

"He doesn't have to find out," I reasoned. "My dad never goes in my art room—you can stay there."

Though he still looked skeptical, I could tell he was giving in. "I'm not sure…."

"Simon, you're not living out here on the streets. End of discussion."

Simon gazed at me for a long time, but finally exhaled deeply. "Fine. Let's go."

I grinned, pleased with myself, and started off towards home, knowing that Simon would catch up to me in no time.

When we were kids, Simon would come over all the time. I had a tree house that we stayed in all afternoon, just lying on the hard, wooden floors and talking about whatever it was that little kids talked about. But then my mother disappeared, and my father turned bitter, getting involved with things he should have never stuck his nose into. He told me Simon was a bad influence on me, but nowadays I think that that was just a lie to get Simon out of my life; he was afraid Simon might find out about the beatings.

Of course, I eventually ended up telling him at school one day. Naturally he wanted to help, but I convinced him that the only way he could help was by just staying away from my house. He agreed only if I could go over to his house every day after school. Nothing could keep Simon and me apart, and that was still true to this day.

But I digress. The road to my house was not an unfamiliar one for Simon, and for a second I almost felt like we were little kids again, walking home together after school since my father refused to pick me up.

"_I can't have my best friend getting hurt,"_ was what Simon used as an excuse to walk me, despite how obnoxiously far away his house was from mine. My lips twitched at the thought as we made our way up the gray cobblestone walkway to my house.

Tugging my cellphone out of my back pocket, I read the time to be half past three. My father would be out on business, making it all too easy to sneak Simon inside.

Sure enough, I swung the door open to a silent, empty house, the door's protesting creak echoing throughout the foyer. My mother's grandfather clock ticked with melancholy off in the corner, and I just stood there listening to it for a while, a soft breeze playing at the nape of my neck. Simon allowed me my peace and locked the door behind us on his own. When he stepped back in line next to me, I wrenched myself from my thoughts and forced a smile.

"Welcome to your new home," I said.

He gave me a grim look and jerked his head in the direction of the winding grand staircase. Catching the hint, I glided over to them and quickly made the ascent to the second floor, not bothering to be graceful about it. Simon followed close at my heels as I padded past my bedroom and bathroom until finally reaching my art gallery.

The room was my safe haven. It was littered all over with canvases and empty paint tubes, paint splashing wildly across the dark walls. Animatedly blooming flowers and lush scenery rolling on forever on the dozens of canvases took me away to an island vacation far from my life. Stars faintly glowed on the ceiling, promising me secret midnight adventures with my imagination. My heart pinched, pining for the day when I was able to escape from the walls closing in on me.

Sighing quietly, I sauntered carefully into the room, making sure to dodge the mess of toppled paint canisters and brushes. "It's not much, but it's the only room my father agreed to stay out of."

Simon was admiring a gray-scale painting of a swing hovering over endless, rippling water. I instantly recognized it as the dream I had shared with Jace a few nights ago. Immediately after I woke up, I came in the room and frantically recreated it on canvas, afraid that the dream would slip right through my fingers otherwise. Color crept up my cheeks as I prayed Simon wouldn't ask about it.

"It's beautiful," he murmured.

"Thank you," I said meekly, eager to get off the subject. "So you don't mind staying in here?"

Simon shook his head, turning back to face me. "You sure _you_ don't mind me staying in here?"

"Just as long as you keep your hands off of my paintings."

"Can I keep them on you, then?" he teased, the corners of his mouth tilting up.

I gave him a look, but my emerald eyes were dancing with amusement. "You can keep them to yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an engagement with Izzy. So unless you feel like heading up to Pandemonium with me..." I trailed off, raising my eyebrows back into my hairline.

"No, thank you. That place is a cesspool of sex," he grumbled.

"Which is why it's my scene." I smiled at him, though it lacked luster. "I'll see you tonight."

I could see the disproving look in Simon's eyes, but at the moment I just couldn't bring myself to care. I needed to feel the comfort of the music pounding through my muscles as adrenaline soared in my veins. It was the only way I could remind myself of who I really was.

* * *

**Super-duper props and a shout-out is in line for anyone who can figure out what exactly I'm brewing up in the Plot Pot involving Simon moving in.**

**On a side note, I had my first day of school today (And yes, the two author's notes were written a day apart) and I instantly knew we would get along when I spotted the Grammar is Sexy sign on her podium. Not even going to describe how awesome that is, since I believe it's self-explanatory.**

**Just remember—Grammar is, indeed, sexy.**

**R&R (:**

***Shiver***


	11. Chapter 10

**I'm supposed to be working on my English paper right now. What do I do instead? Update fanfiction.**

**WELCOME TO THE TENTH CHAPTER OF LOVE GAMES! I made it extra long just for the occasion, which is why it took an obnoxious amount of time for me to update.**

**Just as a foreword, I'm asking everyone who supports me and my writing on this site to please, please, go on and vote for my short story entitled Revenge is Bliss. I'm entered in a contest and it'd be an absolute dream of mine to win and get my name out there in the literary world. Thanks to anyone who heeds my plead!**

**Anyhow, enjoy(:**

* * *

_I'm your national anthem_  
_God, you're so handsome_  
_Take me to the Hamptons_  
_Bugatti Veyron_

_He loves to romance 'em,_  
_Reckless abandon,_  
_Holdin' me for ransom,_  
_Upper echelon._

_He says to "be cool" but,_  
_I don't know how yet._  
_Wind in my hair,_  
_Hand on the back of my neck._  
_I said, "Can we party later on?"_  
_He said, "Yes, yes." (Yes.)_

**CPOV**

A yelped expelled past my lips in a rush as the iron-hot straightener scalded my neck. My hand jerked back just in time to prevent an angry mark from puckering up to the surface, much to my relief. Static sounded from the speaker of my phone, Izzy shifting on the other end.

"You alright?" Her soprano question sounded almost muffled.

"Yeah, yeah. Just my straightener. You sure you can't pick me up?"

More hair-raising static. "Clary, if you saw this catch I've got reeled in, you wouldn't leave either."

Unplugging the flat-iron from the wall, I picked up my powder brush and dabbed the fine white particles lingering to the applicator across my lightly-freckled face. My nose wriggled against a sneeze, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. "You're such a slut, Iz."

"But it's okay, cause so are you." A giggle bubbled out from the end of her sentence.

Rummaging about the colossal pile of shoes I had stashed in my closet, I released a dry little laugh. I found a pair of strappy silver stilettos and slipped them on my freshly-pedicured feet, wobbling only slightly as I adjusted to my new height.

"Yeah," I agreed, exiting the closet. "I guess I am. Okay, you have fun with your new boy-toy. I'll walk to Pandemonium."

"Don't freeze to death!"

Eyes tilting up toward the ceiling once again, I snatched up my phone and stuffed it in a clutch. A leather jacket hung over my computer chair and I shrugged it on swiftly before escaping through the door. The sleek material hugged at what meager curves I had, outlining all of my attributes while still keeping some modesty. Yes, I knew it made me look good, and that was the exact thought that brought a hundred-watt smile to my lips as I leaned suggestively against the doorway of my art room.

"What do you think?" I spoke low, enunciating each word perfectly on my full, glossed lips.

Simon looked up from admiring one of my water-color paintings to gape at me. His mouth flapped open for a second, eyes wide, before quickly composing himself. A darker look than what I was used to shadowed his features as he crooked one slim finger towards me. Lowering my lashes, I dutifully obliged with his silent request; as soon as I was close to him, he snaked an arm around my waist and tugged me near-flush against him. Only a sliver of air stood between us, stirring the butterflies hidden beneath the supple skin of my stomach.

"I think you look far too good to go out tonight," he said huskily, hands slipping down from my waist to firmly grip my hips. His lips were right at my ear. "Why don't you stay here?"

I laughed haughtily, knowing perfectly well I had Simon wrapped around my finger. "You know I can't. I have a reputation to uphold."

Simon groaned, releasing me so that I could step back. "I wish you would quit that."

"I know," I said, softer now. "But I can't."

"We'll see about that."

Stunned, I snapped my gaze up to meet his eyes, trying to read the expression on his face. But he wasn't looking at me, features hidden beneath a shadow. I swallowed hard, averting my eyes as unnervingly silent seconds ticked by. Cleared my throat.

"I have some business to take care of with my father tonight." My voice was barely above a whisper. A floorboard creaked somewhere in the house as a howl of wind caressed the night sky. "We shouldn't be back before four, but keep the door closed just in case. I have to go now."

I turned to leave, heel spinning smoothly on the hardwood, but Simon's hand quickly shot out to catch my wrist. I paused, allowing for him to speak, but did not twist around to face him.

"What are you doing out at four in the morning with your father of all people?" he questioned.

My teeth clenched, tension rippling through me. "Business."

I felt his calculating gaze skimming over me. "Dressed like that?"

"I'll put on some tights first," I muttered, smoky eyes shutting. I recoiled from Simon, walking until I met the threshold. "I've got to get going now."

Before Simon had a chance to get some more rebuttals in, I slipped out the door, shutting the solid wood behind me with an audible click. Feeling deflated, I sagged against the door as shudders trembled through me. Every part of me screamed to tell Simon about what "business" I had to take care of with my father every week, but I couldn't. Because if I uttered even one word about the secrets I was entangled in, my father would kill me.

* * *

**JPOV**

A stray, chilling breeze of wind escaped through the calm city. One could sense the people stirring up in their apartments, preparing for another peaceful night of sleep. For Jace, though, his night was just beginning.

He loped down the cracked, litter-strewn streets with the hood of his black sweatshirt tossed up to obscure his face. Something tickled at the back of his head, telling him that he should turn around and go back to the comfort of his studio, but he pressed forward. The urge to talk to Katie ran on an impenetrable zip-line through his body; after Alec, she was the only person he knew who could screw his head on about something.

The familiar dirty, red-brick apartment building nearly caving in on itself rose into view and Jace hustled over to it. Fluorescent lights buzzed a low greeting to him as he stamped into the shabby entry way. The white, cracking linoleum floors were scuffed with all sorts of stains Katie and him had once tried—and failed—to scrub off. Speaking of the tall, mousy brown-haired girl, Jace peered around for her familiar form, but came up empty. Ambling forward to lean on the poor excuse of a front desk, he slammed his palm down repeatedly on the gleaming bronze bell resting there. At the irritating alarm that rang out, Katie poked her head out from a storage closet, brown eyes beaming question marks.

"May I help you?" she asked, stepping out with a rather large box swallowing up her curvaceous body.

Smirking gloomily, Jace threw back his hood, messy golden hair curling along his jaw line to kiss the nape of his neck. Eyes widening slightly, Katie set the box down on the cluttered desk and tugged the hem of her snug-fitting band tee down, rounding the edge of the desk. He met her halfway, enfolding her in a burly hug that knocked the air out of her with a tiny "oof."

"Jace," she said with mild surprise once Jace had set her back down on her ratty sneakers. "I think this is the first time I've seen you sober past seven-o-clock."

His eyes glinted devishly. "Leave my demons alone, Kat."

Katie clucked her tongue, face contorting. "I told you not to call me that."

"I told you not to worry about my drinking; it helps me."

"Your sweetest cure is often your darkest poison," she muttered cryptically, going behind the mammoth desk to rummage about in the box she had carried out.

Jace heaved a long, weary sigh and leaned his elbows on the dusty counter, watching Katie busy herself with taking out the wrapped stacks of paper from within the box and placing them on the table. Taking a pocket knife out from the confines of her skinny jeans, she began cutting the wrapping off the paper and creating the base to what was quickly blooming into a colossal stack. A dark storm was roiling in his head, churning his blood hotly. Words formed of their own accord on the tip of his tongue, sprawling about irritatingly. Eyebrows furrowing down, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter, drawing Katie's attention.

The paper screeched out a sharp tear. "Why'd you come down here anyway, Jace? What's troubling you?"

"What makes you think something's bothering me?" he retorted.

"Well," another swift slice, "judging by the way you sprinted out of here yesterday and have only come back now—void of your bags, might I add—I can only assume." Jace blanched, gaze snapping up to her face. She met it with a steady look of her own. "What, you think I didn't notice?"

Jace swallowed, turning the stones of his thoughts over while his tongue fumbled to form the right words.

"Arianne," he began thoughtfully, "has pushed me past my limits. I'm ill just thinking about my sister. That's why I left."

"Where are you living now, if not here?"

He shook his head vehemently. "It doesn't matter. Katie, I've changed."

A warble of laughter escaped past her lips and she used the point of her gleaming blade to tear into the now-empty box. Its severed pieces fell limply to the floor, useless and dank; Jace couldn't help but feel like those were his own insides lying dead on the floor, getting stamped on by the firm sole of Katie's worn sneakers.

"Mind me, Katie. I haven't changed fully—yet. But a part of me recognizes it lingering behind the scenes."

"Jace, what are you babbling on about now?" she asked, sounding exasperated as she bent to gather up the discarded pieces of box.

"I need to get out of here," he explained, gesturing around him. "If I don't, I—I'll end up just like _her_. Just like my sister, slumming around in the allies with a bottle of gin in my old, withered hands."

Katie whirled around, cardboard strips clutched flush against her chest. Her eyes were blazing, lips pursed tightly. Jace was positive that if her hands weren't occupied, she would have slapped him directly across the face. She took a bodily step forward, a personal, physical threat.

"Don't you dare say that, Jace Herondale. You would _never_ turn into the monster your sister is."

"Why not?" he demanded, straightening up as his muscles rippled with tension. "I'm already a worthless drunk, aren't I?" Katie opened her mouth to refute, be he silenced her with a cutting glare. "Don't even try to deny it. You've only said as much five times a week for the past three years."

She swallowed gruffly, fingernails digging crescent indents into the cardboard. For a while, the both of them remained in a terrifying silence; the kind of silence that seems to stick to your skin and pool at your feet with the thickness of tar. The only sound that filtered past their stony barriers was the irking buzz of the lights and the rustling of Katie tossing her shredded box into an electric-blue recycling bin. Jace lost himself in the steady rise and fall of his chest, relieved to finally be releasing all the pent-up rage. His blood coursing through his veins was scorching hot, making the cool of the night outside that much more appealing. In a last-minute decision, he shook out his curls and snapped his hood back up to shadow his defined features.

Just as he was turning, he heard Katie's voice. "Jace—stop, don't. Please." Her small, thin fingers were clammy as they encircled his wrist and spun him around to face her. Yanking his hood down, she cupped his feverish face in her palms, forcing his fiery eyes to lock with her fierce ones. "One day, you will find worth and meaning to your life in the place you least expect it. Until then, just hang on. For the love of God, you can even drink if it will help you. Just don't give up hope—not yet."

Jace stared steadily at Katie's heart-shaped face for a long moment, both of them breathing with effort. At last, he gave a slight inclination of his head, agreeing to heed her advice. Stress visibly left Katie, smoothing out the wrinkle between her brows.

Squeezing the college-grad's hands firmly, he lowered them back down to her side. "Drinking it is, then," he remarked. Without giving her a chance to respond, he donned his hood once more and disappeared on a wisp of wind frosty enough to chill the cartilage in one's bones.

* * *

**CPOV**

There was an unnerving chill hanging in the air, matting down my needle-straight copper locks. It was a winter night no-doubt, with the sky as dark as the void you linger in just before slipping into sleep. Wrapping my arms around my thin frame, I expelled a quavering sigh, wondering what had happened to the warm weather we had been experiencing earlier this week.

Another gust of ghastly wind rushed past me, lifting up my hair and twirling it around playfully. Cursing Izzy for not abandoning her boy toy long enough to come give me a ride, I smoothed my hair down delicately. Fortunately, Pandemonium's pounding bass flooded through the concrete of the sidewalk and trembled up from my feet. A smirk lit up my lips; the club was just around the corner.

Sure enough, I rounded the building on 75th street and was hypnotized by the flashing multicolored lights swirling through the fogged glass of the Pandemonium. My smirk morphed into a full-blown grin as all thoughts slipped away like sand through fingers. The pounding bass was my drug, filling me full with tiny glass bubbles. I was as light as a helium balloon, floating languidly towards the golden, glowing doors. Jolts of pure electricity filtered into my skin, instantly warming me all over. I bodily jerked open the door and was consumed.

Throngs of ecstatic, drunk teens dressed in scraps of skin-tight material molded around me, welcoming me into the center of their night with open arms. Music engulfed me, blooming inside me and guiding me around like a practiced puppet; my hips swayed slowly as I ventured further into the crowd. Lust was humming like a live-wire, connecting all of us in some otherworldly way.

"Clary!"

"Hey, baby. Hit me up later."

"What's goin' down, Fray?"

People shouted things to me from every direction. I responded as I usually did—a smile, a wink, a private grazing of my hands. I was a queen here, ruler of every admirer. Their comments adorned a tiara in my fiery locks, fueling the sense of power coursing through my veins.

"Clary-girl!" This voice was not part of the crowd. The high soprano lilt was an equal among me, and I would recognize it anywhere.

Raven hair and eyes like the Arctic Ocean at night flashed once before scrawny arms constricted around me. A breezy laugh left me in a whirlwind as I returned the squeeze.

"Apology accepted," I stated pointedly.

Pulling back, Isabelle made an apathetic face. "I am sorry, you know I am. Just look at him, though. He's gorgeous!"

My emerald green eyes followed the direction of Izzy's meticulously manicured finger and spotted a tall, dark-haired man with dull brown eyes. He seemed _far_ too old to be hanging around a teen club like Pandemonium. A cigarette was held loosely in his hand, pressing a crinkle into my nose. Normally the attendees of the club took consideration to smoke only in the back room, where all the pool tables were located and the college kids smuggle in gin and whisky.

"Him?" I asked, incredulous. "He's, like, in his forties!"

She shrugged. "I like my men older."

"Yeah, older. Not senile."

"Oh, stop," she ordered, clucking her tongue. I laughed it off and twirled around in a slow, lazy circle to the screeching of a techno song flitting about the space.

Halfway through my circle, someone's strong hands latched onto my hips and tugged me taut against them. There were fireworks crackling on my skin, my heart stuttering almost painfully against my ribs. Gasping, I twisted around as best I could in their unrelenting grip. A hot flush warmed through me when I saw the chiseled features of his face, the perfectly messy locks that curled at the ends to frame his perfect face. The gold of his eyes were twinkling with something devilish.

I swallowed, composing myself, but did not pull away. Our faces were mere inches apart, noses practically bumping.

"Jace Herondale, what are you doing here?"

He grinned blasphemously. "Can I show you something?"

"What something?" I asked, lips turning down in a frown.

Jace pointedly chose to ignore my question, and moved his hands to the small of my back so he could efficiently maneuver me around the crowd. I resisted, but it was a feeble attempt that he didn't even seem to register as he plowed through the sweaty cluster of bodies. Two more staggering heartbeats, and a blast of cold air slammed into me with the force of a brick wall. Sucking in a sharp, stunned breath, I dug the sharp point of my heels into the concrete, forcing Jace to a halt.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. Chills bit into my skin with an effect that had me aching to go back inside the club and get swept up in the suffocatingly hot dance floor.

Jace spun around abruptly enough to make me jerk back in surprise. His hand shot out and caught my arm to keep me steady, though the touch only made me feel dizzy. A feverish flush had flooded into his features, something that I had failed to notice under the flashing, multicolored lights of the club. Out here in the black of night, you could easily see the high flags of color staining his cheeks in a way that looked like smeared berries.

"Just go with it.

Before I had the chance to respond, he was off again, tugging me along behind him. I huffed with exertion, my short legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"Are you drunk, Herondale?" I called gustily.

A few notes of musical laughter were plucked out from some hidden place inside him, and floated back to awaken a butterfly in my stomach. "Not _yet_," he responded suggestively. From inside the confines of his sweatshirt, he pulled a bottle of some sort of liquor and began waving it in the air like a flag, earning an eye roll from me. Knowing Jace's reputation, he was probably going to take me to an alley, liquor me up, then try to get in my pants. Suddenly, I felt a lot more reluctant to keep following him, but knew I had a reputation to keep up so I squelched the feeling instantly.

We ran for what seemed like eternity. The thin skin at my wrist burned with a heat as intense as the sun's; I hadn't yet deducted whether it was a pleasant feeling or not. Finally, just as I was beginning to think my legs would fail me, Jace slowed down to a trot in front of a grand, palace-like structure that took my breath away and tickled at my memory. I took hold of the two stings unraveling in my mind and forcibly tied them together to make a connection.

"Art Angelorum," I marveled. "It can't be."

A slow, angelic grin spread like warm butter across his lips. "It is."

"Why are we here?" I asked breathlessly as we ambled up the numerous marble steps.

"Well, would you like to go inside?"

My eyes widened perceptibly. "Inside? Won't we have to come back tomorrow when it's open?"

Ignoring me for the second time that night, Jace drawled out a low, haunting tune through his teeth. The whistle could have been called casual as he waltzed forward to round the building, but there was a lulling undertone to it that told a larger story. I shuffled awkwardly, not sure whether to follow him or not, and drew my coat tighter around me. Without Jace's skin around to scorch uncomfortably against mine, shivers were given a nicely-printed greeting card to snake themselves down under my skin.

Speaking of the golden-eyed child, he poked his head around the corner, a finger crooking at me to come near. Hesitating just a second, I dutifully went to him, the cracking sound of my heels stabbing into the concrete sounding painfully loud in the silence of the night. I rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, staring at what was in front of me. My eyebrows darted up into my hairline, questions already beginning to swirl around in my head.

"How did you…." I trailed off as my head started shaking back and forth with disbelief.

Running a hand through his already-tousled locks, Jace smirked at me. "Don't tell me you don't believe in secret entrances."

And a secret entrance it was. Meticulously carved into the sturdy marble of the museum was a dark, gaping hole that undoubtedly led inside the building. I traced a delicate touch around the outline of the entrance, not quite conceiving it still.

"How'd you get it open?" I asked.

"I never reveal my secrets." I made a face at him, earning a chuckle. "Are you going to go in, or what?"

I wavered, peering inside the depths. Who knew what Jace had planned, what tricks were lying up his sleeve? Plus, it was getting late, and soon I would have to meet my father. Imagining the grief I would receive for showing up late—or worse, drunk—to my father's business made me unwilling to go any further with Jace. I opened my mouth to tell him so and—

A gasp was wrenched out of me, and a gun shot went off in my chest. Jace suddenly had his arms wrapped tightly around me and was smuggling me through the passage. Within mere seconds, we were encompassed in a darkness as rich as dark chocolate. I was close enough to Jace to feel his heart beating against my arm, to melt into his sweet breaths tickling feather-light caresses across my cheek. Everything inside me jumbled incoherently at his proximity; a heady sensation bubbled up inside me as the scent of warm, freshly baked chocolate cupcakes wafted up to meet me.

"Sometimes you just need to have a little faith," Jace whispered. His lips were hot at my ear.

I had to swallow to compose myself, licking my lips. "I'll trust you—tonight."

A rumble of laughter vibrated through me, making me involuntarily shiver with pleasure.

"I wouldn't expect anything more."

The instant Jace released me, I was kissed with the hair-raising cold air circulating through the dead museum. Wrapping my arms tight around the indent of my waist, I resisted the urge to clasp back onto Jace as he wandered off somewhere in the darkness. My vision had been reduced to ink, but I knew he remained close by with the way my skin tingled in the peculiar way it always did when the golden-eyed boy was around.

"There's a light switch around here somewhere…." The muttering of his smooth voice was enough to fill the silence lurking around us. Blinding fluorescent light seared through my eyes suddenly, a hand unconsciously coming up to shield them. Blinking past the light, I peered around me.

We were standing in what appeared to be a janitor's closet, bottles of all sorts of suspicious liquids piled up on the rotting wooden shelves that reached towards the ceiling. Without the cupcake scent Jace carried with him, antiseptics tickled at my senses, wrinkling my nose. The perimeter of the room was small, the only thing separating Jace, casually leaning against the oak door, and me was your classic yellow mop bucket.

Catching his heavy, stoic gaze, I turned my eyes smoldering, twisting one strand of long, silky red hair; the cherry red of my plump bottom lip was kneaded between my teeth. Jace's eyes bore deep within me, the fire blazing inside the golden flecks hinting that he was thinking hard about something. His jaw was clenched tight, hands fisted in his pockets.

"Are you going to take me for a ride, or what?" I asked sweetly. The innuendo wasn't missed by Jace, who rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling, hand reaching for the doorknob.

"I thought you were one for courtship, Clarissa," he responded, holding the door wide for me as he scanned the shelves of the room absently.

"Clary," I corrected. "And is this not courtship?"

"What's that?"

I strolled over to the threshold, pausing there to lean against the doorframe. "This—bringing me out to an art museum, breaking me in at the dark of night so that the two of us could explore it alone, and let's not forget the ever-so-tempting bottle of whiskey in your sweatshirt."

"It's gin, actually, and no one ever said you have to drink it." Pausing, he plucked a black, gleaming object off one of the top shelves, and walked past me out the door. "If you want my opinion, though, it does make everything much more fun."

I sucked on the inside of my cheek, mulling over his flippant use of alcohol as he flicked off the lights inside the closet and shut the door. There was never a teen I had met that used alcohol as much as Jace did, as if it were some sort of medicine to him. In a way, it almost reminded me of my father; of the numerous nights I would come home to find bottles of hard alcohol strewn across the floor, shards of broken bottle digging into my feet as I cleaned the mess up. Involuntarily, I shuddered, knowing very well that my life was miserable, my father was miserable, and maybe Jace was, too. If not, he certainly had a death wish with the way he used the bitter liquid.

Once again, the clicking of my stilettos against the marble flooring as we walked was the only sound drifting up into the high, domed ceilings above us. Jace fiddled with the object he held in his hand, and a light burst out, illuminating the darkness around us and casting the shadows away.

"So why take me out here if not to court me?" I continued to pester, worrying the zipper on my jacket

"I told you I have to show you something."

I groaned inwardly, eyes following the light darting around the encompassing space. "There's more?"

"There's always more when it comes to me, Fray." Before I had a chance to respond, Jace veered off to the left. A large crack rang out in the silent air, goading a yelp out from the bottom of my throat. The small amount of light that was spilling from the flashlight went out. Startled, I spun around in a circle as my heart hammered in my chest. For a moment, my labored breath was all I heard.

A low rumble surrounded me, sounding vaguely like the first spurts of thunder before a raging storm. I was about to shout, but then something inside me clicked—it was just Jace, as per usual, pushing my buttons. I squinted into the inky black darkness Jace had left me in, hands on hips, and spotted the faint silhouette of a laughing Jace.

"Oh, ha ha," I drawled, vigilantly stepping over to him. "What are you doing now?"

"Stairwell," he stated plainly, giving me a soft shove in front of him.

I stumbled past a doorway with a slight noise of disdain and was immediately enclosed inside what seemed to be a small, cellar-like area. There was a soft pang, and then Jace flicked the flashlight back on, showcasing a rusting metal staircase winding up farther than what we could see.

My face must have shown my disgust, for Jace beamed at me with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Want to take off your heels, princess? Might make it easier to climb."

Jutting out my chin, I crossed my arms taut across my chest and stalked in front of him, beginning the ascent on my own. "I'll be just fine, thank you very much."

Jace's laugh echoed behind me, and then the rickety staircase was groaning painfully as his boots pounded behind me. At first, I was holding true to my word, having no difficulty navigating the twists and turns of the metal platforms; but the further we climbed, the more my muscles screamed out. It was enough to make me shoot my hand out and grip the railing hard enough to paint my knuckles a startling white. The iron was freezing my skin through and through, locking up my joints uncomfortably.

Just as I was about to spin around and pronounce my apparent failure with the simple task of climbing an old staircase, the stairs leveled off and emptied into an empty doorway. I think at one point a door may have been attached to the rusting hinges, but at the moment only dark, heavy air hung in the doorway. I stamped up the last two steps and sauntered forward, peering curiously inside the darkness.

"What is this?" I asked, turning only slightly towards Jace.

The boy came up behind me, breathing steadily over my shoulder. All nerves in my body became hyperaware of him, the pinpricks of emotion standing straight at attention like little toy soldiers waiting to be marched into battle. My breath was hitched on an invisible string in my throat, making any attempt at breathing a minimal struggle.

"Let's go find out."

Without asking my permission, he took up my hand in his and propelled us forward into the dark abyss of a room. And actually, it ended up not being a room at all. In fact, it was one of the most amazing places my wide, emerald green eyes have ever taken in.

The second we were over the threshold, Jace set his flashlight down in such a manner as to illuminate the entire space. With a start, I realized we were on a sort of balcony with only the shortest of a pure, marble white railing stopping me from teetering off. If you walked all the way to the end, your thighs pressing flush against the cool stone, you could literally reach out and stroke the hair of the massive granite statue illustrating the goddess Aphrodite.

My jaw dropped open, the tips of my sensitive artist fingers tentatively reaching out to trace the miraculous curves and indents of the precious Queen of Love. All the air had left me, leaving me with a breezy, feather-light feeling, adrenaline shining like a spotlight through my veins. My eyes fluttered shut, a content little sigh flying out of me and twisting up through the air.

Whirling around, I marveled at Jace, the sinister, golden boy who seemed only to care for himself. What he had just shown me, though, proved my incredulous ideas of him wrong. For what it was worth, this boy truly did have a giving, caring heart, and he was showing me a small glimpse of it for whatever reason that night.

"This…." My sentence traveled, then dropped off as I scrambled for words. I shook my head. "This is amazing. Really."

Reaching deep within his sweatshirt with an unreadable smirk painted on his lips, he produced a bottle. "I know something that would make it even better."

I eyed it hesitantly, not quite trusting myself enough to take a swig from the now-open bottle of gin. The brown-tinged liquid sloshed around a little, and a bit of the bitter scent tickled at my senses. Vaguely, I flashed back to the last time I let myself indulge in the demons of alcohol. Least to say, I woke up shivering on the kitchen floor with tears streaking my soot-smeared face. The memories of what exactly happened that night never quite resurfaced, and honestly, I didn't want them to. That was a night I enjoyed cramming down into a little black box labeled 'Do Not Open.'

Ever since, I had vowed not to allow myself to dive in that deep with the foul drink; and I felt like I could control myself, for the most part. But I couldn't help but realize that I was never really myself around Jace—something was always off-kilter. Would I be able to stop myself once I began?

Seeing the hesitation in my eyes, Jace waved the opening of the bottle just under my nose. "One sip can't hurt, can it? Or are you afraid, Clarissa?"

Defiance crawled up my throat, choking all forms of a response down. Actions speaking louder than words, I drove my hand out, took up the cold, glass bottle, and put it to my lips. In one swift motion I had the burning fluid downed, a tingly feeling already beginning to spin through me. Jace's mouth opened to say something else, but I cut him off with another swig.

That's how it went the rest of the night, the two of us finding ourselves draped gracelessly over the short marble guardrail and passing the bottle back and forth. Soon, we were giggling our spirits up to the high-dome ceilings, letting our inhibitions to go. Everything spun and pirouetted by my vision, and yet I still took my proper sips of the demon. At one point I think I tried to refuse the bottle swimming in front of me, but then Jace knocked my head back for me, and I was melted from then on out.

Later, I would sift through my memories and realized what really happened that night. That at one point I leaned across the sliver of open air separating Jace and I, and I planted my lips on his. Scorching heat flooded through my veins as he gripped me tighter against him. There was a feverish intent burning inside the both of us, and it definitely showed with the intricate dance our lips created together.

Tangled, distraught, and not quite registering what we were doing, my phone vibrated violently in my bra. I yelped, springing back from the heat of the brooding boy's hands and tugged it out. Sudden realization coursed through me with a personal, cracking slap as I checked the message there.

It was from my father. And it was telling me how late I was.

I didn't even have a coherent explanation to offer up to Jace. Head full of bursting champagne bubbles, I skittered up from off the floor where the two of us had fallen, and I darted down the staircase. There was no pain this time as I clomped noisily down the steps, but there was a stabbing in my heart as it banged up against my ribcage.

My father was surely, and truly, going to kill me.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, guys! R&R, and once again, please support me on Figment if you have an account. The story title is Revenge is Bliss. Thanks much, loves!**


	12. Chapter 11

_You're so bad but I wanna taste  
A little taste you have  
Come on over, right now, take me down  
I want your poison_

_I thought this was just a phase_  
_But every day, I slip, starting over_  
_You crawl through my skin_  
_And I let you in_

_A little taste  
Ou-ou (Ou-ou-ou-ou)  
A little taste  
Ou-ou_

_Oh, how you give me chills_  
_Hold my breath til it kills me_  
_Come on, tear me apart_  
_I'll rest in peace, yeah_

_Don't stop, I haven't had enough_  
_You're mine til the sun comes up_  
_I can't have just one, one_

**CPOV**

Contrary to what I told Simon about changing into a more modest outfit before meeting with my father, I had no intentions to do such actions. Business meetings were the only time my father allowed me to dress scantily—in fact, he thoroughly encouraged it. The one time I had shown up in my street clothes, I had gotten the back of his hand hard enough to imprint the bold, scripted M engraved into his ring, onto the previously unmarred skin of my cheek. Nowadays, I knew better; sometimes I would even find a new dress—its fabric so silken and lovely that I would mourn its future destruction—lying patiently on my bed linens for me to pull it on. It would always be suffocatingly tight, and it would always be revealing.

Grimacing lightly to myself, I came to a stop outside the alley between the run-down Thai restaurant and the oldest Brownstone apartment building in the city. Shivers wracked their way down my limbs, but I welcomed them with open arms as they popped all the intoxicating champagne bubbles flirting about in my head. My feet had long-ago gone numb with the pain of running in the strappy stilettoes locked onto them, making me cringe as I took the dreadful steps inside the alley. Habitually, I traveled five slight paces, then swiftly rapped three knuckles against a rusting metal door indented into the Brownstone.

Shouts and drunken jeers could be heard inside, and then the door swung open, the dim light dangling from the low ceiling inside illuminating my profile. Turning to fully reveal myself, I was faced with a burly, greasy-looking man with a leering smile spreading across his lips. A beer was held loosely in his dirty mitts, his chapped lips suckling on the bottle's rim for a quick swig.

"Ey, Valentine. Look who came to join us."

Two seconds later, my father appeared behind the man.

Every once in a long while, one will experience what it is like to see your own death. There, in the depths of my father's frigid onyx eyes, I saw a world of torment and fiery rage, all aimed directly for me. I shrank back, bowing my head like the coward I knew I was.

_Jace would have fought—stood his ground._

Immediately after it was thought, I dispelled the fragment, mentally rattling myself for even thinking about that golden-eyed boy at a time like this. The atmosphere swirling about the barren streets stilled, as if the whole world was holding its breath with me in that final instant. There was a pounding of a drum somewhere off in the distance, getting more erratic by the second. Vaguely, I registered the fact that that was my heart preparing to explode out of my chest, but I didn't dare move an inch.

"Lyle, please give my daughter and I a moment to ourselves." Though he spoke with waves of calamity emanating off of him, I knew him well enough to recognize the razor-keen undertone lingering in the air. A shiver crawled under my skin, muscles tensing.

"Sure thing, Boss." Only the thunking of his work boots could be heard in the quiet that settled around our shoulders like wool. The door banged shut with a gun-shot sound, and only then did I lift my head. It was a tentative gesture that I regretted the second I realized just how close my father had gotten to me, his broad shoulders looming far, far above the crown of my hair. The emerald of my fearful eyes shone into the thick cashmere of his gray sweater.

"Clarissa." An elegant, pale hand reached out and brushed my cheek.

I couldn't help my reaction—with the lingering effects of the alcohol still flitting about my mind, my judgments were impaired as instinct took precedence. I flinched, taking a staggering step back, only angering my father more. He closed the distance between us, gruffly clenching my jaw in his grip. Wrenching my face upwards, I was forced to meet his piercing gaze as his finely cut nails dug into the vulnerable skin of my cheek. It was not hard enough to draw blood; no my face had to remain perfect until the end of the night. Otherwise, the man wouldn't want me, and I would finally become useless to my father. What then? Would he kill me? I didn't have a doubt in my mind.

"You show up late, and then you recoil from me." He spat. "Ungrateful child." His upper lip began to curl, a silent snarl.

"I'm sor—," I began, a tremble coursing its way through my body.

"No!" he roared. My body was being shaken as if I was as light as a child's rag doll. "Apologies are not a warrant for you to defy me.

He shoved me, my heels stumbling against the dirty bricks making up the ground. Already, I could feel my legs beginning to buckle, but I forced myself to stay standing, stay useful. If I fell now and dirtied my dress, I would surely feel the blade of a knife against my skin.

"If you do no perform to full excellence tonight, you will be punished, Clarissa. Mark my words." Straightening out his sweater, he cleared his throat and calmly opened the foreboding door. "Don't keep them waiting any longer," he hissed in my ear.

"Yes, father." It was not physically possible to make my voice sound more feeble. I was a thin sheet of paper, crumpled and left to disintegrate.

As I passed over the threshold and sauntered inside the dank hallway, I allowed for my mind to detach altogether. I became a puppet, woodenly walking to the front room where I knew a handful of men would be waiting. There was only one thing I was good for, and these men knew it—they _expected_ it, licking their perturbingly dry lips in wicked anticipation.

_Your toy is here, boys,_ I thought bitterly as I entered the room.

Immediately as I glided in, a cloud of thick smoke encroached upon me, smothering all senses with its tendrils. It was hard to strangle down the instantaneous reaction to wretch; my father had a rule against me making any sort of sound during his meetings, and I was already skating on thin ice. Speaking of the devil, my father appeared out of the smoke plume to stand behind me. My jaw clenched when his icy hand took a perch on my bare shoulder, but I otherwise did not react.

"Gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to my dear daughter, Clarissa. As I'm sure you are all aware, she will be aiding me in our agreements tonight, giving you a taste of what life will be like shall you choose to band with me."

Murmurs went up in the room, my cue to wink with lazy demeanor at the four men lounging on the couch. As usual, they all were bulky, all seemed ungroomed, and all….

My thoughts snagged as my gaze was returned with a cheeky grin of a man who was transparently different. He was tall, blond, and _gorgeous_, movie-star looks dazzling in the expensive, Armani suit tailored perfectly to his toned body. A strong frame to his fierce gaze, his face was chiseled enough to rival Jace. My skin began to squirm with something unpleasantly warm the longer he burned his sapphire eyes into my own.

For the first time, one of these men were looking me in the eyes instead of my body. And it made me feel putridly _sick_.

Casting my eyes downward, I took the second step forward that was required of me. A boom rang out, the echo of my father clapping his hands together.

"Raphael, if you'd prefer first positions…" The instant the words left my father's mouth, the devilish, sculpted man leapt off the couch and appeared at my side.

Cupping my elbow, he replied. "I'd be positively honored, Valentine." A wicked grin curled into his lips. "Lead the way, _Clarissa_."

A spiraling, hair-raising chill scraped down my back at the sound of my name on his lips. The sensation had my seriously considering refusing his request and bolting straight out the door. One cutting glare from my father, though, and I was scrambling in the direction of the bedroom.

"Bedroom" was a very loose-fitting term here. The disgusting room was a cesspool of horrid memories adorned with a queenly gold wallpaper that was peeling where it met the stained carpet. There was a single table inside with a plethora of food delicacies for the clients to eat, and a few feet across from that was a chair. Grand and gloriously comfortable, that's where I would perform my job. When the door shut behind us, we were drenched in darkness; the only lighting was a small desk lamp on the food table.

I stood alluringly in the center of the room, heart beginning to thrum. Raphael looked perfectly comfortable as he leisurely inspected the silver platters of food laid out before him. Plucking up a scarlet red apple, he sniffed it once before swiftly take a large bite out of it with the likeness of a cobra. A gulp stabbed down my throat, eyes wide.

Grinning blasphemously at me, he let the fruit tumble from his grasp, back into the bowl. I could feel the frown line pressing into my skin as he stalked towards me; my feet staggered backwards of their own accord until the graceful curve of my back was flush against the molding wallpaper. Suddenly, his arms shot out, encasing my head as he laid his hand against the wall. Expensive cologne wafted off of him in waves, rendering me dizzy.

Eyes drooping down, he leaned in towards me and placed his lips at my neck. I heard him inhale deeply before planting a tender kiss there. Revulsion rose up deep inside me, though I had no idea why—this was what all the guys did when I led them in this room. So I couldn't even begin to imagine what was wrong with me when I felt a cold sweat begin to perspire on my forehead. His hands slid down the curves of my body, balling the material up in his fists when he finally reached my lower back. An involuntary gasp expelled from my lips as I heard the fabric tear with a pitiful sound. Not missing a beat, Raphael slipped a hand through the rip, splayed it against the small of my bare back, and yanked me gruffly into his wiry chest.

Mechanically, I roped my arms up around his neck to draw his mouth down to my neck. He grazed his teeth lightly there, allowing for his hand to roam further and further up my spine, ripping the dress nearly all the way open. With a soft grunt, he grabbed hold of my thigh and tugged upwards to wrap it seductively about his hips. His tongue was doing a dance at my collar bone, sliding down lightly to skim the beginning of my cleavage. Something revolting stirred inside me, but I didn't have the nerve to pull away; especially when his hand began creeping under the hem of my dress. Warning bells were screeching at me, my heart frozen in rich fear. _Push him off, push him off, push him off pushhimoffoffoff._

Just as Raphael's fingertips brushed up against the thin fabric covering my rear end, the door swung up to reveal the man from earlier—Lyle, if I remembered correctly. Raphael froze instantly, eyes snapping up to send a personal dagger at the awaiting man. Thankfully, that was when he peeled himself off me, releasing me into the clutches of wracking shivers.

"Until next time, sweet heart," he purred with a sinister wink.

Some indiscernible noise choked out of my parched throat, but Raphael ignored it as he turned on his Gucci heel and strode from the room. My entire body shook with a feeling unknown. There was not one part of my brain that could comprehend what on earth had just happened with that mysterious man, but I did know that it was _wrong_. That man was tainted in some way; in a way that made me want to run, screaming, for the door.

Dirty fingers dug into the soft skin of my back despite the fact that I was still trembling like a fool. I promised myself I would ponder Raphael later. Right now I needed to surrender myself to the all-too-eager and greedy Lyle.

* * *

My father drove me home that night, though I surely knew he was drunk enough to make us a part of the road in the slightest instant. All the way back home he was busying himself with prattling off random strings of statements about how I was such an excellent daughter making all four of the men there that night come to alliances with his "group". The eye roll his words dredged out of me was thankfully hidden in the pitch dark of the car. At least he was jovial enough to not beat me like I had assumed he would.

As for me, I was feeling mangled. The very cartilage in my bones felt exhausted, and my skin was crawling with the ghosts of those filthy men's touches. Undoubtedly, I was heading straight for the shower the second we rolled past our wrought-iron gates.

Sure enough, not even a beat later, my father was parking the car. Blinking once, I darted from its confines and shoved my way through the unlocked door. My father shouted, demanding after me, but I couldn't stop the adrenaline soaring through my veins. Tears were streaming tracks though my foundation by the time I poured into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Alone at last, I let the sobs have the free roam they so craved. My ribs shook and heaved with exertion, but not one ounce of me cared as I blasted the hot water, stripped off my mangled scrap of a dress, and let my meticulously-established appearance wash away down the drain. Tears continuing to intermingle with the blast of water raining down on me, I squirted a generous amount of body wash onto a blue bath poof and began vigorously scrubbing at my filthy skin. There were no words to describe how absolutely putrid I felt, down to the very sheer curtain that outlined my soul.

Although I wasn't sure if you could even say I _had_ a soul anymore, not with the way my father forced me to live. Was this what my life has succumbed to? Sobbing my disgust away in the shower at four in the morning after having just defiled myself in front of four avaricious, perverse men? All that I had become was a puppet of self-loathing with no mind of my own. Subjecting myself to my father's wishes…_weak_—I was _weak_.

It wasn't until my skin was scraped raw that I turned the scalding water off and stepped out into the plush cushion of my bathmat. I was shivering something mad and sopping wet despite the cotton wrapped snug around me, but I was too numb to care. Now, with my sobs subsided and tears dried up, I was just a hollow copy of my previous self.

Wearily, I padded back to my room with half-lidded eyes and the meager intentions to dress in a modest gingham pajama set before trying to cheer myself up. Tapping my computer to life, I keyed in my passcode and sauntered over to my closet to dress as the hunk of technology booted itself up. Within minutes, I was twining my hair back in a braid and sliding into my computer chair.

The internet loaded up swiftly, allowing me to efficiently get into ShadowsAngel's blog with minor effort on my part. A drop of water sidled down my back and I shuddered. There was a cold lingering on my skin, thick as tar, but I ignored it as I leaned imperceptibly forward in my chair, eyes grazing the boy's new post.

_I have a minor confession to make. Don't worry—I didn't commit murder, though surely many of you wouldn't put it past me. No, instead I tricked the girl I have been warring with. As we chatted tonight, I produced a bottle of alcohol and offered it to her. We both drank our fair share of the liquor, but only she got drunk. You see, dear readers, the more alcohol I drink, the more I seem to become immune to its demons. Nowadays it takes at least two bottles to draw my inhibitions away from me; tonight I only drank half of one, and am very much sober as I type this. Unfortunately for the girl of my desires, she was a light-weight, becoming heavily intoxicated in an instance. Naturally, I acted drunk along with her—it's no fun with a sober me. Besides—this would provide me the perfect opportunity to take her as my own and win the war raging between us._

_And it would have worked perfectly. If it was any girl but her._

_As the demons of the liquor took her into their bubbly embrace, her true colors began to show through. With her walls gone, she became completely open to me, flirting and joking and telling me about her dreams. I gazed at her without shame, and noticed as she prattled on and on, something that I failed to see before. She was always attractive—how could she not be with the sultry clothes and alluring expressions? But now…now she was _beautiful_. Her hair was a tangible image of the fiery passion that burned in her heart ; her eyes were glittering emeralds like the precious jewel she was; her skin was luminescent, exemplifying the pureness of her intentions as she struggles to make it through the day. And boy did she struggle. No one else could see, but to me it was painted on her face clear as day._

_I'm not sure how I got to this next part. One second I was drowning in poetic thoughts about this gorgeous girl in front of me as she threw back her head and laughed. The next, we were leaning in towards each other, scalding heat flowing between the sliver of space separating us. When our lips met, I was shocked, to say the least. Never did I ever kiss a girl I was pursuing on the lips, and I knew this girl trotted by the same rules. But the longer her lips lingered, the more I felt my resistance melt away. An instinct I was very familiar with clawed up inside me as I wound my arms fiercely around the supple, elegant curve of her tiny waist and tugged her flush against me. My heart was racing, and my mind had shorted out. With her there, molded up against me and kissing me with every ounce of passion thriving in her soul, nothing could have been more right._

_When she finally broke away, I was left dizzy, nerves tingling as if I was drunk. Across from me, she had a look on her face that said she had already forgotten what just transpired—didn't even realize it had occurred. I know that I will see her tomorrow, and I also know that she will not remember that first kiss. But I will go along with it. I will not say a word._

_Because as much as I yearn for her to remember, I know that I am unlovable, and incapable of loving. It's best to just get this little challenge over with and move on with the broken sham of a life I was destined to live._

* * *

**Psh. You guys thought I wasn't going to describe their first kiss. **

**I'm not that cruel.**

**R**


	13. Chapter 12

**Originally, I wasn't going to do this chapter for quite a bit more time. However, reading over your reviews and using common, logical sense, I figured it was time. Enjoy, readers! I fear this story will be coming to a close soon :s**

* * *

_Something is said, it sits in my head_

_ It's been there too long,_

_It's killing me slow _

_It's rolling around,_

_It's pushing me down _

_It's keeping the good part of me closed_

_Can't you see that when I find you, I'll find me_

_Oh I need you to know,_

_Today, I'll wait for you always_

_My only weakness, is knowing your secrets and holding them close,_

_and holding them tight _

_I know the way to silently make you smile with my eyes, _

_when you're trying to fight_

_Cause when I find you, I'll find me_

_Can't you see that when I find you I'll find me_

**CPOV**

As my blank eyes soaked in the rising dawn, the fog clouding my mind receded into an irritating pounding. There was a near-empty bottle of aspirin resting next to my alarm clock, but I haven't touched it since I got out of the shower. The painful throb in my head helped to untangle my muddled thoughts.

As I read through ShadowsAngel's blog, a frayed string of memory suddenly mended, making me vividly aware of that night's true events. I had gone to my father's business meeting thinking nothing but a friendly drink was shared between Jace and I. Boy, was I wrong.

Trembling fingertips reached up and brushed across my lips as the burning hot sensation of Jace's mouth moving in perfect sync with mine flashed through my head for the thousandth time that night. Jace's hands, large and deft, pulling me hungrily against him as if nothing else could sate him. His golden eyes smoldering in the shadows as I bolted away unaware. How I could have forgotten any of this, I didn't know. It seemed impossible to not recollect an event so shocking, so...amazing.

I hadn't moved from sitting on the edge of my bed since I turned off the computer, the blog post's words permanently seared behind my lids. I couldn't get over the fact how easily Jace had played me. Granted, I was drunk, but still. He said things I didn't even know he was capable of. Not to mention the fact that I had been unconsciously falling for the anonymous ShadowsAngel; to find out it was Jace was absolutely absurd.

A nail wrenched itself into my head, and I finally gave in as the sun mercilessly blinded me. My hand shot out, unscrewed the bottle of aspirin, and popped a couple pills. I swallowed them dry with a wince then pushed myself off the bed and stumbled out into the hall. Closing the door, I spun around and immediately made towards the bathroom.

I ended up running into a scrawny, shivering wall instead. With a small noise, I stepped backwards to glare at Simon. "What are you doing?" I demanded.

Simon looked nothing if not frazzled, a shirt stuck halfway down his head. Tugging it down the rest of the way, he readjusted his glasses and frowned down at me. "I was going to wake you up. It's freezing in this house, don't you have a heater?"

"Yeah, but we..." I trailed off, remembering how my father and I were both impossibly intoxicated by the time we came home. There was no way either of us would have remembered to turn the heater on before falling asleep. Although, I didn't even sleep last night; Jace's words were nagging the edges of my mind endlessly. "Sorry, I must have forgotten. Come along with me, then."

He hesitated visibly. "Won't your dad see me?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's way too early for him to wake out of his hangover."

"Like you?" he asked casually, eyebrows raised into his hairline.

My eyes narrowed to slits, arms crossing over my chest. "I do not have a hangover."

Simon gave me a Do I Look Stupid look and mimicked my stance. "I've known you forever. If you think I don't know when you're hungover, you're sadly mistaken. Same goes for knowing how to soothe it."

I didn't have a chance to respond before Simon brushed past me and started down the winding staircase. After a second I decided to follow him, but didn't try too hard to keep up with his long strides. By the time I reached the end of the staircase, Simon could be heard rummaging about in the kitchen as I headed in the opposite direction towards the thermostat.

Once the heat kicked in, I released my taut hold on my arms and padded into the kitchen to join Simon. He didn't even turn when I entered; just gestured to a chair at the island as he continued to fiddle around with the blender. After a moment, a loud whirring sound ripped through the air.

I was off my stool and unplugging the blender in five seconds. "What the hell are you doing?" I whisper-shouted. "My dad will wake up and kill us both!" Slapped down hard on his arm.

"Ow!" He exclaimed, clutching at the angry red mark I left. "Calm down, your dad didn't wake up, and your hangover cure is ready to drink."

Calming down, I peered inside the blender to inspect the creamy pink substance. My nose crinkled. "What is it?"

Simon plucked a glass out of the cabinet and set on the counter to fill it to the top with the pinkish cream. Sliding it over to me, he leaned against the counter and watched me.

I picked up cautiously, then took a small sip. A blast of strawberry and banana sprawled across my taste buds and sent a jolt of cold to my head. The more I drank, the more I felt my head clear up, and the throb in my head fade to near nothing. Within a minute I had the whole glass downed.

"What was that? A smoothie?" I asked. Simon nodded. "Why don't I remember that making me feel better?"

"Because the last time you were hungover," he explained, beginning to clean out the blender, "I told you it was a strawberry daiquiri. And you believed me."

"I take it I'm a dumb drunk," I say dryly, tossing my cup in the sink.

Simeon's head tossed back with a laugh. "Something like that."

After a tiny meal consisting of handfuls of dry cereal, I had to push myself to go upstairs and get ready for school. Simon was much more reluctant to return to hiding in my art room again. Apparently it was claustrophobic and stripped him of his sanity after staring at the same paintings for hours on end.

"You could always enroll in school," I pointed out.

Simon made a face. "And get an actual education? Who needs that?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "You can't avoid school forever."

"I'll get around to it."

I didn't respond to him as we parted ways for me to try and make some sort of recognizable entity out of my hair in the bathroom. Three hair products and a straightener later, I had my hair tamed from insane bed-head curls to soft waves, and was trotting back into my room. Izzy, I noticed after a quick glance at my cell, had been blowing up my inbox with messages all night. I didn't find a reason to answer her, though; the girl only cared so much before something superficial distracted her. It was the same way every time I left her unexpectedly.

I won't bore you with the boring details of how I got ready that morning, but eventually I was clad in yet another revealing outfit with makeup slathered on over my fading cuts and bruises. Simon poked his head out of the door for a quick second before I left, but he still refused even the prospect of educating himself again. So I walked out the door alone, taking the vacant backstreets to school in silence interrupted only by the slap of my heels.

To distract myself from the cold snaking through the cuffs of my pea coat, I watched my fiery waves flair and flutter with my gait as I pondered the whole Jace situation. The golden boy was the most confusing thing I had ever tried to figure out in my life, and this was no exaggeration. First he tries to trick me into going out on a date with him. Then he apologizes, only to turn around and trick me into getting drunk so that he can sleep with me and win the game we have going before I had time to even react. But right as I'm about to do just that, he catches himself, finding beautiful aspects in me that I didn't even know existed. Aspects that made me feel special for the first time since my mom left.

Does that make anything change, though? Just because a guy felt for once that I was worth more than the sex appeal I procured, does that mean I actually am? Or that I was willing to change my ways to see the same way? Thinking about it then, I knew that more than likely I wouldn't be able to. The only thing that kept me going was the reprieve I got from the attention on the thumping dance floor of the Pandemonium. Being with Jace would mean giving that up and letting him in on the dark secrets that I have to deal with every day. I wasn't quite ready to do that yet; not even Simon knew what really happens to me.

By the time I was gliding down the hall, flashing my smile at everyone who waved or greeted me, I had come to the conclusion to act just as Jace had described in his blogpost. He wasn't expecting anything from me, so I wouldn't mention I knew his true identity until I knew how I was going to deal with him.

Even so, I couldn't ignore the leap of my heart after just one quick peek in Jace's direction as I walked by. Isabelle and Danielle, I couldn't help but notice, were leaning up against the lockers with him. As Jace and Isabelle chatted idly, Danielle caught my eye and slowly started grazing her hand up and down the length of Jace's muscled arms. Absently, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Jace wound his arm around Danielle's waist and tugged the curves of her lofty figure over to mold around his chest. Her muddy brown eyes sent daggers straight into my stuttering heart.

The air constricted suffocating hands around my neck, starving me of sweet oxygen. Isabelle caught sight of the transaction occurring between Danielle and I, and I pleaded with my best friend through the pain that oozed out of my gaze. We held each other's eyes for a few thudding heartbeats that resonated deafeningly loud in my ears before she lifted a slender shoulder in a shrug and went back to the conversation she was having with Jace.

She chose Danielle over me.

A stone cold metal rod body-slammed itself through my chest, leaving a hole that I wasn't sure could be patched. Its edges filled with jagged teeth, gnawing through my insides and making me as mangled as I looked behind all the makeup covering my scars. One person. I had one person left in my life. And he refused to leave the confines of my art room.

Choking, I tried enormously hard to put my emotions in check. I had done so for the past ten years my mother hasn't been around; I should be able to do it for one more day. For the first time in years, I walked the length of the hall by myself, with no one to be my wings, no one to encourage the people's whistles and greetings I've grown accustomed to. Without my usual girls flanking me, I felt somehow...empty. Although I didn't miss the presence of Dani much, Isabelle was the person who took me in and gave me an identity after I lost myself in the beatings of my father and Simon stopped coming to school. She was someone I thought I was able to depend upon for anything, should I happen to ask her. Danielle seemed to have convinced her otherwise.

Students' smiles plummeted to the floor as they picked up on what was happening. I was being alienated; revoked my position as head of the school. In one night. One night was all it took for everyone to lose respect for me. And I didn't even know how it happened.

It didn't take long before I couldn't stand being in the center of everyone's gossip ring as I trudged down the hall. I picked up the pace, and in the matter of seconds, I was barreling through the doors of the bathroom, just as any teenage girl would do in a cheesy high school television show. A couple girls milled around, reapplying makeup in the few minutes before the bell rang, but after a curt order from me to leave the bathroom _immediately_, everyone hastily packed up and scurried away. Left alone, I locked myself in a stall and sat down on the toilet seat, letting tears streak through my precariously-applied makeup.

Twice. I have sobbed my insides out twice in the past two days. What happened to me being numb? Why couldn't I go back to a month ago, when everything was still locked up, hidden, balanced, _normal_? Everything in my life had tilted sideways, and I was stuck tumbling around, trying to get back up without any luck. I just keep falling on my ass, the hole in my chest growing larger with each incident. And no one was there to help me up. Not anymore.

Sure, Simon had offered on more than one occasion to let me open up to him, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Simon didn't deserve the burden that I carried on my shoulders. I could feel myself crumbling, though, knees buckling under life's immense weight. My ribs refused to budge, restricting my breath and making me gulp in breathy gasps. If I didn't get help from someone soon, I was certain I would die. Whether it be by my father's hand...or my own.

It was then that I noticed the army knife clutched so tightly in my grip that my knuckles turned white. I always kept it in my bag just in case I ran into trouble walking to and from school and needed to defend myself, but I hadn't realized I had picked it up until now. It gleamed wickedly in the awful fluorescent lighting, my pale, empty reflection flashing in its blade.

Heart numb, breathing shallow, I gazed at the knife, turning it over in my hand. Used correctly, it could easily kill me. That way, my father wouldn't get the satisfaction of doing it himself, and I would no longer feel pain. No longer feel so hollow and alone. I could leave on a pair of silky white wings and soar off into a light that holds no grief, only cures.

"So much relief in one tiny blade," I murmured absently. My voice echoed through the empty bathroom sounding vacant.

Just then, the door to my bathroom stall flung open to reveal a gloriously furious Jace. His golden honey eyes were alight with flames, lips turned down in a grim line. One look at the knife in my hand, and he smacked it away. My jaw dropped. The blade clattered against the dirty, molding tile in another stall a few feet over.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, voice smoldering.

I frowned, blood beginning to burn. "Nothing! I was just checking to make sure I still had my knife in my bag." Lie number one.

"Really?" he asked, giving me a sardonic look. "And what were the blubbering noises I heard coming from the door? Your imaginary friend?"

"Some girl just broke up with her boyfriend. She left a second before you came in." Lie number two.

Jace crossed his arms across his chest, entire body language screaming he didn't believe one word that left my mouth. "I was standing outside that door since you came in here. There's no way someone could have left without me noticing."

I ignored his point, fists curling tight enough to draw blood from the crescent impressions in my palm. "What are you even doing in here? It's the girl's bathroom; got something you want to share with us?"

My attempt at trying to make a thick situation light was tossed to the side with one change of expression in Jace. All of his features softened, and he pushed his way inside the tiny stall, locking it behind him. Crouching down to eye level, Jace radiated gentleness as he soaked in the pain dripping from my eyes in silent tears that slowly began to drip again.

"You don't always have to be so strong," he whispered, warm breath brushing a caress across my cheeks.

His words were my undoing. My bottom lip immediately began to tremble as the tears picked up pace. Ducking my head down in an attempt to get my fiery hair to hide how awful I must be looking, a sob strangled out of me in a shudder that shook my entire body.

Before I knew what happened, Jace encircled me in his arms, took my seat, then plopped me back down on his lap. I didn't even question it; just curled into his strong, solid body and allowed for his arms to secure themselves around me. An image of him and Dani embracing tickled at the back of my mind, but I pushed it away. In its place came the beautiful words Jace had written; not about Danielle, but about me, and how Jace saw through my walls and recognized my pain. In that moment, I needed so badly to be able to clutch on to someone and know without a doubt they weren't going to fly away. I needed someone who was willing to smack idiotic thoughts of death out of my head and tell me it was going to be okay.

Just as Jace had done moments before.

In the minutes that followed, I didn't fight. I found no need to, not with Jace there, stroking my head with steady hands and whispering reassurances against the crown of my head. I wanted to spill everything to him right then and there, despite how precarious our relationship was, just because I knew about his past. I had been taking a bird's-eye-view of his life without even knowing since he started his blog one year ago. He felt the same pain I felt, dealt with the same numbness that chilled me with its bony fingers. We couldn't have been more different, and yet so perfectly the same, linked in a way that was grotesque, but nonetheless real.

After a while, I found myself speaking before I could clamp my mouth shut.

"I hate myself," I choked out in between sobs. "I really, really hate myself."

Suddenly, something scalding hot and wet was dripping down on the top of my head; Jace had begun to cry with me.

"Me too." And I knew it was the truth. He hated himself with every ounce of his being—I could tell just by the raw sincerity filling out his voice and emptying out through his tears.

So that's what we were left with: Two confessions, two mutilated hearts, and the echo of our cries ringing through the ghostly bathroom stalls.

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**Didn't mean to make this so depressing, but stuff happens :/  
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**R&R? (:  
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***Shiver*  
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	14. Chapter 13

_Give me love like her, 'cause lately I've been waking up alone,_

_Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt,_

_Told you I'd let them go, And that I'll fight my corner,_

_Maybe tonight I'll call ya, After my blood turns into alcohol,_

_Give me love like never before, 'cause lately I've been craving more,_

_And it's been a while but I still feel the same_

_Maybe I should let you go,_

_You know I'll fight my corner, And that tonight I'll call ya,_

_After my blood is drowning in alcohol_

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow_

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The weird thing about silence is how cutting it can actually be. Slicing through the atmosphere like a scream in the dead of night, silence pierces the mind until your ears ring and the world becomes topsy-turvy. Time is non-existent as you observe your surroundings, and suddenly everything rings with a certain sense of clarity.

In the aftermath of our pouring confessions, I sat on Jace's lap, curled into his chest, and watched the pulse jump under the smooth skin of his throat in that same sort of utter silence. His deft hands were buried in the waves of my hair, head resting against my own. As I concentrated on the pulsing vein of his-the soft brush of his breath against the nape of my neck—I felt as though some missing piece of the puzzle was clicking in place. His arms were ropes around me, tying me to this world when all I wanted was to float away.

A bell ran off in the distance, but neither of us moved. In fact, the only time we showed signs of actually being aware of our surroundings was when someone tugged against the lock latching the bathroom door shut. Reluctantly, I pulled back from Jace then to meet steady gazes with him. I released a dry laugh and wiped my make-up smeared face with the back of trembling hands.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, averting my eyes. "I know I look horrible."

Frowning, Jace snatched up my hands, using his own gentle touch to wipe away the remnants of tears streaking my face. "You look beautiful."

My head drooped, heart faltering painfully as I remembered the reason why I ran in here in the first place. With a cringe, I said: "Don't—don't say that. It's not right when you and Danielle…."

He rippled with tension beneath me. "What?"

"It's no secret with the way you two act around each other," I replied almost bitterly. "Not to mention all the bragging Dani does."

Jace released my hands to run through his golden strands, eyes shutting against my accusing gaze. Standing from his lap, I fixed my rumpled clothes while muttering, "Whatever. It doesn't matter anyhow. Thanks for comforting me."

My fingers reached for the lock, but strong, firm hands grappled around my waist and turned me back around. Sighing deeply, Jace tugged me over so that I was straddling his lap. My fingers twitched to wind around his neck and feel the burn of his skin beneath my touch, but I resisted. As my hands curled into stiff fists, Jace pressed me closer to him yet. His eyes were smoky with desire as they grazed the outline of my collarbone up to my neck. Almost trembling hands traced an ascent from my hips to rest gingerly in the curve of my waist, holding me as if I was ancient glass.

"Danielle is an illusion of what I cannot have," he whispered, eyes glancing up to meet mine beneath his thick lashes. "What we have is purely physical."

"What's keeping you from what you want?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Tangling his hands in my hair, he said, "It's not mine to take."

Images of his blogpost mingled with the memories of last night's kiss. Despite what he wrote, I knew that he was trying to make me remember what had happened beneath the heavy hand of liquor's spirits. There, resting in the honey of his eyes, was the secret, banished plea for the remnants of the kiss to dawn on me.

But a whisper of doubt was lingering in my forethought. Even after everything the two of us had shared the past two days, the way I felt about Jace was still a mystery. I was never programmed to think of men as anything more than a toy to play with during my free time. And Jace…Jace was supposed to be safe; both of us cold towards love and just looking for a new way to break up the usual lag of our dating lives.

He just had to mess it up.

Sitting there, encircled in the security of his arms, I felt the sincerity of my feelings toward him. They were burning just beneath my heart, making my skin tingle and my breath fluttery. Staring into his eyes sent rose petals splaying across my cheeks as I tried hard to resist the urge to duck my head.

I had to ask myself if I really wanted it, though. My life was screwed up enough as it was without adding relationship drama with Jace into the mix. Plus I highly doubted Jace would accept my world of neglect and abuse when he already had his sister to be concerned with. As mangled and broken as we were, there could be no happy ending for us—especially if he found out what I did with my father's business partners during the dead of night. Even I was disgusted with the whole situation; how would Jace take it?

Shutting my eyes for the barest of seconds, I vowed to act exactly as Jace had described me in his blogpost: clueless. I took his hands in mine and gently lowered them back down to his side. With a weak smile, I said: "Then maybe you should find what _does_ belong to you."

Jace stared at me levelly, mouth flat-lined grimly. Several painful beats of my heart had to pass before he gave a slight, affirming nod to acknowledge my statement. There was nothing but silence left in its place.

Silence: a tool that will a cut like a knife through the darkest parts of ourselves. It has no warning or hesitation; it is just there, lurking in the times we hate it most.

I ducked my head down and, with my pulse thudding deafeningly in my ears, rose to leave the stall. This time as my fingers grazed against the lock, Jace didn't stop me, nor did I turn as I walked out with my bag being hiked up on my shoulder. There was a ringing in my ears, piercing through everything to make the world seem like something out of the twilight zone. Nothing was recognizable as I ambled down the vacant halls, not a sound or act registered in my brain. I wasn't even aware of where I was going—I was just walking…walking…a hollow ghost making her rounds in the school she once inhabited. But there was nothing left to sustain her.

Eventually, I forced myself to bundle up those feelings of emptiness and shove them down in the big wood box at the back corner of my mind to collect cobwebs. If I was going to commit to my decision to be indifferent towards Jace, I couldn't be moping around as though I had just been stabbed in the back ten times over—no, I had to act as though my life was just as good as it was before everyone had left me to fall in the dust.

Determination creeping up inside me, I jutted out my chin, fixed my posture, then strutted off towards the school exit. If my previous schedule retained, the gang would all be congregating at Pandemonium that night. Undoubtedly, if I was going to make it seem like I didn't have one flipping care in the world, I would have to rest up the dark circles indented beneath my eyes then put on my best game face for a night on the prowl in the club. It was my goal to look like my heart was made of stone, like no one would ever be able to hurt me.

Of course, only Jace knew the real truth.

Shaking my head clear of thoughts of Jace, I shoved my way out the doors and began the walk towards home. I took the main way, hoping that the commotion of traffic and business-drunk socialites would keep me distracted. Listening to the sound of my own thoughts had just become exhausting.

Soon the crowd was depositing me back out onto the rich, extravagant neighborhood my manor was set in. The majority of the only trees you'll find in Manhattan were there, looming over the streets as to block any view of the manors you could get. My house, of course, was secluded from the rest of them, segregated to the very end of the street with no trees protecting its view from the speculating eyes. We only had a wrought iron gate to block us out from, as my father referred to them, "people beneath us." Despite him wishing we would remain separate from the lower class, our gate was almost never closed, which is why I found it so peculiar for the black rods to be latched tightly shut over the driveway.

Eyebrows scrunching together, I rummaged in my bag for my spare set of keys and plucked a few out before I found the right one to unlock the gate. I shut it behind me as I padded warily up the driveway, wondering what on earth was going on. The closer I got to the house, the more oddities I noticed: my father's car in the driveway, the garage door completely agape, and the front door slightly ajar. The only time my father ever left the door unlocked was when he went out to a business meeting, and by the looks of it, he was still very much at home.

Ice crystals filtered through my veins, freezing over every inch of my skin. The staccato lashes of my heels made me cringed as I picked my way carefully over the threshold of the front door. Swimming through my vision was a house that looked completely unperturbed, but I knew something was wrong. A thick, foreboding smog hung in the air and filled up my lungs with smoky discharge.

Limbs turning to stone, it took a whole lot of coercing on my part to thrust my legs into moving one foot in front of the other in order to climb the stairs. I could literally hear my joints creaking as I ascended, and my muscles were coiled so tightly I thought I may combust. Breathing was becoming tricky, making my heart speed up to overdrive as I made it to my floor.

I checked my room first, swinging open the door with a careful swiftness. When I found nothing out of place there, I checked the bathroom; again, all clear. Then I was faced with the last door, set across from me at the very end of the hall. The room that Simon was supposed to be locked up in—hopefully _still_ locked up in.

With a deep breath, I started towards it. As if in a nightmare, the walls around me began to warp and melt around me in candle wax that stuck to the soles of my heels and made it taxing to walk. The hallway elongated, stretching on as far as my dreadful eyes could see. My heart thumped, the only sound encased inside my constricting ribcage; a cold sweat made my hands clammy.

Shutting my eyes, I breathed in and out…in and out…then slowly took the last real steps towards the door and wrapped my shaking hands around the knob. Fingers slipped against the cool bronze finish; I wiped them off on my jeans once quickly before returning my grasp. My lips plucked out a prayer to whoever was watching over the scene that day.

I guess no one was paying attention to my miniscule life just then, though. Because the second I pushed open the door, my world crashed down to a boil in the puddles of wax walls pooling at my feet. My vision clicked to black in several rapid-fire shots, and for a moment I had the heavy notion that I would faint. However I forced myself to stay standing. If not for me, then for the mangled boy lying in his own blood on the floor of my once-beautiful, peaceful art room.

A scream ripped out of my throat, scraping the insides of my lungs on its way up. My father whirled around with a venomous vindication burning in his eyes. A cracked, rotting bat was gripped tightly in his knuckle-white hands, the oak finish stained scarlet with Simon's blood. Lips curled up in a malicious sneer, he took a step towards me with the bat poised for another hit.

"Dear, dear Clarissa. I am overjoyed that you decided to grace us with your presence—and just in time, too. You are just about to see the big finale where I get to crack open your friend's skull and watch his blood rain down upon all your pretty pictures." Alcohol ran heavily through his veins; his breath reeked of it, the foul stench pouring over me like a slap.

Rage bubbled inside me, my hands curling into fists. "Don't you dare touch him!"

"'Don't touch him,' she says." He turns further inside the room and before I could blink, the bat swung down on Simon's kneecap. A sickening sound crawled into the air as his bones cracked; my father looked down pitifully. "Oops."

As fast as a cobra flicking out with its poisonous strike, he pivots and connects the bat with my ribcage, instantly making me collapse. My breath caught in my throat, blundered about, then puffed out in spurting coughs. Another blow was delivered to my hip, making me scream in sheer pain. The entire right side of my body felt ready to collapse with only two blows; I couldn't even imagine, then, what Simon's condition was like. God only knows how long my father had been going at him before I arrived.

My fingernails dug into the carpet and scrambled me up onto all fours as I tried to block out the iron-hot pain I was feeling. No matter what, getting Simon out of here alive was my top priority. I needed to fight. Staggering to my feet, I stumbled off towards my room and hunted in my drawers for what I desired.

Living in the city had taught me two things: never go out at night alone, and always have a knife on you. With my father's ominous footsteps pounding down the hall after me, my trembling fingers fumbled with the mounds of clothes, trying to find it. But no matter where I looked, I always came up empty. Where the hell was my knife?

Then it dawned on me: Jace, furiously gorgeous, knocking my knife out of my hand to send it scuttling to the next stall over. On my way out, I never turned back. I never picked my knife back up.

Cursing everything from the heavens down to hell, I shot out of my room and raced down the stairs, barely even noticing it as my one of my heels snapped right off and sent me tumbling down the rest of the way. My bones blew train whistles of pain in my ears, muscles already giving up on me and refusing to work. Even so, when I heard my father begin to walk downstairs, I shoved another burst of energy into my body and forced myself back into a standing position. I nearly fell several times, but then I was limping off towards the kitchen, my mind envisioning tugging a knife from its position in the block and sending it sailing towards my father's vulnerable skin.

Only I never made it there. Mid-step, something collided with my spine and sent me crumpling to the floor. I gurgled out a muffled shout before the pain settled in, then his boots could be heard pacing behind me. Grunting, I struggled onto all fours and began crawled the rest of the way into the kitchen before I had to slump behind the island.

It was at that point that I believe I began to give up. Hope was at a new all-time low as my back absolutely resented the idea of moving even an inch and blood dripped down the side of my face. The knife block was right above me, though; all I had to do was stretch a little, get a good handle on one, and aim for a damaging spot on my dad.

Slowly, I crept a smidge out from my hiding spot and moved my body to give my torso a couple extra inches. Peering over the counter, my eyes searched frantically for my array of weapons—but they weren't where they usually where. The spot just next to the fruit bowl was vacant, and so was the rest of the counter. Where could a block of knives possibly disappear to?

For the first time in my life, I got my answer immediately. Gleaming in the afternoon sun that streamed through one of the kitchen windows, a blade twirled through the air with a grace unknown to man, and lodged itself into my shoulder. Gaping, all my breath left me as a scarlet rose bloomed through the sheer material of my shirt, bringing a whole other world of pain with it. I slid back down to the icy tile floor in shock, trying to wrap my head around seeing a knife sticking through my body.

Another knife whipped through the air and stuck, trembling, in the wood of a cabinet. The thud of my father's boots was getting closer to me, and I knew I had to snap out of it quick if I was going to take the only chance I had at survival.

Yanking the knife out of my arm with a yelp, I clutched it in my quavering hand and waited for my father to show himself. My pants counted out the endless seconds that stretched on then. One, two, three, four. Another knife ripping through the air. Five, six, seven, eight. And the toes of his boots appear. Praying for luck to be on my side, I wound my arm back and snapped the knife forward with all the effort that was contained in my tiny frame. The blade spun, then pierced the skin just above his right hip.

Of course I couldn't catch a break.

Though the wound would bring up a hell of pain later, it didn't even affect him now as he tore the knife out and sent it sailing for my head. I ducked just in time, not even waiting to see where it landed. My eyes locked in on the garage door and before I knew what was going on, I was racing towards it with a newfound adrenaline rushing crashing through me in caustic waves.

Ripping open the door, I barreled out into the cement space and scoured the walls for something to help me. Huffing with relief, I tugged off the first thing my eyes landed on: a shovel. The door screeched open behind me to reveal my father's looming form, and then I was sprinting off to round the enormity of our house until I reached the furthest corner from the garage. There, I waited with my back pressed against the siding, chest heaving, and heart racing. The shovel was gripped so tightly in my hands, I thought it may snap in half.

Grass crunched nearby, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand at attention like little toy soldiers ready for battle. I gulped and braced myself, poising the shovel for the proper strike that would give me the results I wanted.

The next minute was all a blur to me, really. Even today I have trouble piecing together the memories I have. All I know is that somehow my father was suddenly in front of me, and any sense of self-control I had completely dissipated in the gust of wind that passed its silky hands across the earth then. My entire body moved in perfect harmony with the shovel until it connected with my father one…two…three times. In the end, the only thing that made me stop was his blood misting up to splatter my face in some sort of twisted, masochistic form of art.

Gagging, I dropped the shovel from my blood-stained fingertips and looked down in horror at the bloody, immobile body of my unconscious father.

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********!PLEASE READ THIS A/N!********

**Sorry for the obnoxious title. Anywho. Bear with me on this A/N, because it's important so read it all the way through.**

**First off, excuse my lateness of the chapter. I was applying for a writing program and it consumed about two weeks of my life, which severely delayed this chapter. That being said, when I sat down to continue writing this chapter, I figured it could go one of two ways: One, Clary and Jace kiss passionately and find themselves falling in love with each other despite themselves; or two, Clary hardens her heart even further and leaves Jace in the dust. As you can see, I chose the second option because it would have more fluidity within the plot. **

**HOWEVER. I decided this **_**after**_** I wrote the first option, which leads me to my next order of business.**

**You guys have been super awesome and supportive throughout this entire story, even when I don't update for months on end. Therefore, due to your support and endless demand for ClaryxJace fluff, I decided to post the alternative plot point here. **

**Enjoy the love3 It is Valentine's Day after all (;**

_Tangling his hands in my hair, he said: "It's not mine to take." _

_With a voice so forlorn and a face as desperate and crestfallen as the one he wore, I couldn't contain myself any longer. I launched myself forward and molded myself against the broad muscles of his chest. Hungry lips crashed together with a fierceness that made me moan; my nails clawed at his back, wishing the material would tear and allow me to be closer to the scorch of his skin. _

_Echoing pants, twisting tongues, gripping hands clambering for each others' touch. All thoughts to my brain disconnected as his tongue trailed down the weak spot of my neck. Placing a tender kiss there, I gasped and buried my fingers in his hair. My head tossed back to reveal more of my skin and he didn't waste a second taking advantage of it. Frantic lips roamed the vulnerable plane of my collarbone, tugging a pleasant shiver from my core._

_With a firm hand at the nape of my neck, he brought my head back up to meet my mouth. I nipped at his plump bottom lips, grinning when it made him groan. Pulling back, he smoothed his fingers over the lines and features of my face. His heart was pounding wildly in time with mine beneath my delicate touch; a fire burned in the depths of his eyes._

_Gazing earnestly at me, Jace cupped ginger hands around my face. "Every day of my existence, I have sinned. Yet God blesses me with the love of the most beautiful girl in the world. What I'm doing with you now is selfish; I don't deserve to have you."_

_I kissed away the burrows of his frown. "You have to stop damning yourself."_

"_But am I not deserving of damnation?" he asked softly, as if afraid of my answer._

_Firmly capturing his eyes in mine, I replied: "No."_


	15. Chapter 14

**Hey guys! I'm sorry for the delay; I was really busy with planning out the last scenes of my novel so that I could start writing it, and it consumed all the time that I would normally use for fanfiction. In any case, REGULAR UPDATES will start again soon, so expect one every other week, possibly sooner depending on my schedule.**

**Thanks for being patient!**

* * *

_With your glass eyes  
What kind of dream  
Can you see?  
Are you fascinated with?_

Still  
My heart tears  
And drifts  
Stuck in the patched crevices  
Are memories

_With that fruitful lips_  
_ To whom does love_  
_ Is cast away?_  
_ Is lamented?_

_Already_  
_ I spin my words_  
_ Feverish tongue_  
_ Has turned cold_  
_ The song to love_  
_ Can't be sung either_

_ Still you do not answer  
_

**CPOV**

The world was still, put on pause around me as I struggled to breath. A ringing was piercing through my ears, drowning out the oblivious birds chirping in the tree just a few feet away. The shovel, suddenly too heavy for my trembling arms to support, dropped to the manicured lawn with a thud.

With horror, I stared at my father's immobile body. Blood was gushing from the wound I had smashed into his head, the red stuff smearing all over his pale skin, and staining the expensive cashmere of his sweater. His chest was rising and falling, but it was extremely shallow. He wasn't dead yet, but if he would be soon without the proper help.

Suddenly, I found myself faced with the desolate choice I never thought I'd have to make: leave my father to die there on our front lawn, or bring him to the hospital. It was true that he had made my life a living hell ever since my mother had disappeared, but he was still my _father_. Could I really be as cold-hearted as to watch the life slip out of him as I stood there doing absolutely nothing to help? Hesitating only a second more, I turned on my heel and ran back into the house.

Bounding upstairs, I rushed into my art room and had to clutch my mouth against the gag that crawled up my throat. Simon's blood was splattered all over the walls, staining my beautiful paintings with death. Heart pounding, I gingerly wiped a smear of blood from Simon's neck and stilled, straining to sense any sign of a pulse. Very faint and timid was the beating I found, but it was enough; he was still alive.

Letting out a lengthy, weighted sigh, I sank back against the wall and threaded my blood-stained hands through my wilted hair. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't bring him to the hospital—they'd ask too many questions that I wouldn't be able to answer. But if he didn't get medical help soon…. I shut my eyes against the unthinkable. I would not lose the last person I had left in the world.

Determination settling inside my gut, I jumped up and rushed downstairs as I pulled my cellphone from my pocket and dialed possibly the least used number on my contact list: Alec's boyfriend, Magnus. Three years older than Alec, Magnus was halfway through pre-med at the local university. I had only met him twice, but I knew Izzy and Alec gossiped about me to him incessantly. If there was only hope left in the world, he would take pity on me and agree to see Simon.

After two rings there was a grumbled, "Hello?"

Ripping open the closet door, I pinned the phone between my ear and shoulder and started rifling through the coats. "Magnus! Are you in class right now?"

"No," he groaned, "but you woke me up."

I winced. "Sorry. It's really important, though."

There was a long sigh, and I could just see him tugging on tufts of his bedhead as his eyes slowly adjusted to being awake. "What is it, Clary?"

"Simon is bleeding out on my carpet," I choked. "There might be some internal damage, but I'm not sure." Tears were stabbing at the backs of my eyes, and I blinked furiously to try to keep them at bay. "It's so bad, Magnus. Please help him."

"Woah, woah, woah." His voice sounded a thousand times more alert than it had been just ten seconds ago. "What happened?"

"There's no time to explain!" I shouted. Finally finding my father's car key in the pocket of his favorite coat, I started back up the stairs to my room. "Can I bring him to you or not?"

There was a long pause where all I could hear was my heart pounding and the scratch of static silence on the other end. As I waited for his response, I got a spare blanket from my room and laid it out on the floor beside Simon, prepared to move him onto it. And then: "Fine, bring the boy here. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," I breathed. "We'll be there soon."

Hanging up the phone, I stuffed it back in my pocket and gently started transferring Simon onto the blanket. He coughed up a spat of blood when I lifted his torso, but I tried my hardest not to pay it an attention; I'd have to stay calm if I wanted to pull this off.

Maneuvering myself so that I stood in front of the blanket, I ever so slowly began tugging Simon from the room. Though the blanket aided a bit in the process, it was still difficult with my weak arms. Long ago, I had begun training my strength so that I'd be able to fight if one of my father's partners attacked me. However, my father starved me for three days when he found out, saying that "any woman with muscle was an undesirable woman." Now I wished that I had ignored his punishment, for the extra strength would have been extremely helpful at the moment—especially when we got outside.

Worn out and arms beginning to feel rubbery, I had to put every last ounce of my strength into hoisting Simon up into the backseat of my father's SUV. Much to my horror, I dropped him once and bashed his shoulder against the center council twice before figuring out why he wasn't budging. Cringing, I gingerly shut the door, then hopped into the driver's seat. The engine revved to life and I peeled off down the street.

Oddly enough, as I drove down the claustrophobic street, Simon's condition fled my mind as an image of my father's blood painted my vision scarlet. Was it possible that I had killed him? When I last glanced at the scene, it appeared as though my father was floating in the pool of his blood. But still—even though it made me physically nauseous to think of the blood on my hands as the blood of a dead man's—I couldn't bring my fingers to reach into my pocket and dial the number for the hospital. With a weary sigh, I sent a prayer up to God and left my father's fate in His hands.

Within ten minutes, the back seat of the car had blood dripping off the leather, and I was fumbling my way through my poor memory to remember exactly which apartment building I had gone up for the one party of Magnus' that I had attended. After I spent the rest of the week washing glitter off me, I decided never to go to one of those insane parties again. Besides, the alcohol he had really put a toll on the mind. God knows that entire night was a fuzzy blur even though I had only had one drink. I couldn't even imagine what kind of an alcoholic Magnus was.

Despite the fact that the whole world was topsy-turvy with the effects of alcohol when I had first visited the apartment, it was surprisingly easy to locate which building front was correct—mostly because I remembered drunkenly cursing at the rain that had been dripping off the tattered green awning that night, but that was beside the point. Pulling over on the side of the street right in front of the apartment's main entrance, I took out my phone and redialed Magnus' number.

He answered on the first ring, sounding much more stoic and awake than he had ten minutes ago. "Are you downstairs?"

"Yes."

"Okay, wait for me there. I'll help bring him up."

In the silence that followed hanging up, I shut my eyes, laid my head on the steering wheel, and allowed for my walls to diminish. This time, when the first hot trails of tears streaked through the foundation caking my face, I didn't even try to stop them. My chest caved in as I thought about how my life had gone from miserable to utterly desolate in the matter of three hours. When I got ready this morning, I had made a promise to myself that was supposed to have kept my life as normal as I could muster. I was going to ignore Jace's blogpost, numbly go along with what my father would order me to do, and lose myself in the affections of my peers—just like I had been since the first time Izzy dragged me into Pandemonium. I was so scared then, so innocent to what horrors awaited me down the road.

She had found me with my backpack stuffed with clothes, waiting at the bus stop with a wad full of money that I had stolen from my father clutched in my trembling hands. Izzy was on her way to Pandemonium, running later than usual since she had left her money at home. Recognizing me from class, she stopped to ask how I was doing; were there any leads on my mother's disappearance yet? At the mention of my mother, I started to shake, tears threatening to spill over. Not the deftest with handling crying strangers, she pulled me to my feet and walked me to the Pandemonium, saying she had the perfect cure to my blues. As it turned out, alcohol ended up being the "perfect cure," and I used it as a crutch for at least a year after that day.

Izzy claimed that day at the bus stop was fate, that God made her forget the money so that she could rescue me from running away. Maybe it was fate, but if that were the case, then the big man upstairs really liked messing with my life. Because in that moment, sitting wilted in the car with my best friend bleeding to death in the back seat, there was nothing I regretted more in my life than accepting Izzy's help that night.

A cold kiss of air brushed the lifeless waves of copper hair from my face as Magnus tugged open my door. Without uttering a single word, he stood there on the street rubbing soothing circles into my back and smoothing the hair away from my face. Breathing in the bitter city air, I straightened up in my seat, sniffling, and wiped the backs of my hands across my cheeks, trying hard to convince my body to calm down and get itself together.

"Are you alright?" Magnus asked gently.

I nodded, beginning to climb out of the car. "Yeah, let's just help Simon."

Together, we gingerly slid Simon out of the blood-smeared back seat, and from there Magnus carried Simon in his arms. My rose pink pea coat was taken off, and I draped it delicately over his wounds, shielding them from outside scrutiny. Thankfully, we didn't run into anybody in the posh lobby on the way to the elevator, then from there we were breezing into Magnus' apartment.

With the door bolted shut, Magnus rushed into the kitchen and placed Simon's limp body on the island. Bottles of unidentifiable liquids, scissors, thread, gauze; it was all neatly lying out on any available surface in the kitchen. I grasped onto Simon's hand, unwilling to leave his side for even a second, but Magnus was already shoving me out. Reluctantly, I shuffled out of the room and slouched into a seat on the sofa, head buried in hands. I had to let him work, I knew, but it still hurt like hell to sit back and do nothing like the incompetent person I was.

As Magnus clattered hastily around in the kitchen, I closed my eyes and prayed with every ounce of my being that Simon would be alright.

He was all I had left.

* * *

**JPOV**

Ever since Clary had left, I had been chasing our moment together round and round in my head with absolutely no end in sight. What the hell _happened?_ That image of wretched pain marring Clary's face etched itself into my mind, and I couldn't help the falter in my heart. I had no idea she cared about me so much…how could anyone care about me in that way? After all the pain she already had resting on her shoulders, I only added more after the stunt I tried to pull today.

But what else was I supposed to do? It wasn't as if I could confess my true feelings to Clary. She was such a kind, gentle soul; far too different from my tattered one. I was a puzzle that had been smashed on the ground in such a way that the pieces could never quite fit together again; there'd always be miniscule differences in the edges, preventing any sort of cohesiveness. If Clary was to know about my past, she would run as far away from me as she could. So I did the only thing I could think of: I took up the latest offer of the latest girl: Danielle.

I cannot lie: Clary was right when she said that something had happened between Danielle and I. But the entire time, I had been wishing it was Clary that I was holding; that it was her fiery red curls that I had my hands tangled in; that it was her supple lips grazing my skin. She was the one I truly wanted. There was no touch that compared to hers.

Sighing, I dropped my pencil and leaned back in my chair, completely fed up with having to sit through this ridiculous lecture. I hadn't been able to focus in school for weeks now, and I was beginning to neglect to see a point in even trying anymore. Suddenly, my phone gave a sharp buzz in my pocket, and I fished it out to silent it before the balding teacher at the front of the room suddenly regained his sense of hearing.

_Speak of the devil_, I thought bitterly.

**What's on your mind, baby? **

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at Danielle's text, I quickly typed back: _Nothing._

**Oh, don't be like that. If you don't play nice, I won't share the most interesting little piece of information I happened to pick up.**

Gossip and I mixed about as well as water and oil. _I don't care, Dani._

**You sure? It's about Clary…**

My hands stilled, my heart clenching up at the mention of her. Could this speck of dirt Dani dug up about Clary have to do with the way the three girls had begun to act towards each other lately? I had been sensing the tension growing between them all, and then this morning, when Clary walked by….

_Alright, what is it?_

**What, you think I'm gonna give it up that easily? Come to my house after school and we'll talk. See you there (;**

I could have just smashed my phone to pieces.

* * *

**CPOV**

Somewhere after the third hour of hearing absolutely nothing from Magnus, my head found its way to the arm of the couch, my feet curled up on the cushion beside me, and my eyes drifted down for some much needed sleep.

I dreamt of beautiful things; of clouds transforming into butterflies, the stars in the sky melting down to paint gold designs on their elusive wings. I dangled in the delicate curve of the crescent moon, watching them soar around me, wondering when if I would someday rise along with them, or drop down to my death.

I dreamt of wading in opaque, glass-like water, admiring how the surface shimmered my wavering reflection. Someone came up behind me, wrapping me up in their gentle embrace until I felt as safe as could be. I tried to turn to see who it was, but those strong arms kept me in place. Even in the reflection of the water, I could see no one else there besides my pale, bemused face.

_You do not have to see me to know me_—a whisper caressing my mind with ginger strokes.

Sighing wistfully, I sank back into the comfort of his arms, reveling in the sensation of his skin on mine. I folded my arms over his, wanting to get closer to him yet. "I know," I whispered.

The image rippling just as the water was, the scenes changed once again. My bare feet pressed into the cool dirt, the last of my toes dangling dangerously out over the side of the cliff. I spun, soles scraping smoothly against the tiny pebbles littering the edge, and landed in a perfect arabesque. Unfurling from the position, I leapt, limbs extending powerfully out, arms flowing in harmony with the delicate fabric of my skirt.

"Old gravediggress by the dried out brook, whose babble turns to gravel, and my company too." My words were silk floating effortlessly off the tongue and escaping in the sweet breeze. "I used to watch the butterflies, pretend that it's spring when December can't remember not a cold damn thing."

A swift pirouette that melted into stillness, my arms folded gently across my chest. "Old gravedigger by the burnt out tree, who held the hive a murmur, but no more bees." I tilted my chin up to soak in the moon's soft glow. "I used to hear the wind—made speak and sing the leaves. Seems so long I've felt but a shy and tender breeze."

My back arched as I bent backwards, the muscles in my taut legs screaming out in protest with each further inch that I pestered. "Old scarecrow wounded at the knee, lost your buttons and most of your stuffing. Hay for a heart and hay for a brain." A manic laugh bubbled out of my chest, sounding empty in the night. "If your momma was sweeter then you might be sane."

Sobering up rather quickly, I continued my bend backwards. I could feel my balance teetering, there on the ragged edge of the cliff. "Gravediggress, dig me a hole I can bury all of my love and all of my holy."

Shutting my eyes, I lifted one leg and felt the hug of empty air cling to my body as I fell over the edge and plummeted into the dark shadows.

It was then that I bolted awake, a cold sweat dampening my skin. A shaking, clammy hand reached up and wiped the dew from my face, no doubt taking most of my foundation with. From the room a few paces over, a shadow moved, a tiny table lamp was flicked on, and Magnus' face was illuminated. Huffing out a breath laden with all sorts of emotions, I sat up straight and faced him with a hard heart.

"You're up," he commented.

I nodded once, curtly. "Is…I mean, Si—uh, is…."

He waved a hand to silence my pathetic rambling, one side of his mouth quirking up quickly. "He's going to be okay after a week or so of rest. Took me hours to patch him up; he's lucky to have survived."

A strong breath of relief flooded out of me, and I felt my entire body relax into the back of the couch. It was as if an immense weight had just been lifted off my chest; I felt like I could fly and sing and run around for days.

"Thank you so much, Magnus. Really, you have no idea—"

Suddenly, he was in front of me, almond eyes narrowed as he cupped my face in one hand and examined it carefully, like how one would handle an old, worn text. My breath caught, body going rigid. Almost five minutes had to pass before he released me and stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. He still held that same scrutinizing expression.

"Clary, does anyone know about this?" he asked in a no-nonsense tone.

My eyebrows knitted together, fingers flitting up to my face. "Know about what?" But he didn't have to answer the question. It dawned on me then, just what would have happened to my precariously-applied makeup in the past hours. I had cried more than my fair share of times, worriedly rubbed my face until it was raw, and sweated through a deep sleep. It would have had to have been a miracle for my makeup to have stayed intact, and we all know just how often I got miracles.

My hand fell limply in my lamp, and I cast my eyes downward, not wanting to meet his gaze. "Simon knows my dad has mood swings, but…." I trailed off, fingering the hem of my shirt. "I try to protect him as best I can."

Releasing a deep breath, he crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his. He looked me deep in the eyes, appearing more gentle and sincere than I had ever seen him. "Sometimes it's okay to ask for help, especially from those who care about you most." His fingers pressed gently into one of the fresher bruises, pain blooming. "No one deserves to live like this."

I cast my eyes away, reluctant to talk about the abuse I received at home. Because people wouldn't understand why I put up with it; why, after all these years, I didn't pack up once more and escape into the night. The truth was, when my dad looked me in the eyes, I could still see the man he used to be. The man who would pick me up as I screamed with laughter, and helped me try to reach the endless blue sky; the man who would race into my room and console me when I had nightmares; the man who I danced with during my girl scout daddy-daughter dance.

"Simon's going to figure out once he wakes up, you know," he pointed out delicately, drawing my gaze back to his.

I whispered, "I know," but a part of me was still denying it. Once Simon discovered my father beat me this bad, he would do anything to keep me safe. He would endanger himself again, and for what? For me? Because God knows Simon has far more worth than I did. I was going to grow up working for my father and his businessmen, and then would have to marry the inheritor of his funds; enslaved for life, with no way out but to take the bittersweet relief of death. Simon, on the other hand…he was so smart; one of the smartest people I knew. He would grow up to become a successful man with a beautiful wife and kids, and he'd have to forget me. We'd both have to forget and move on. A future as bright as his wasn't able to mix with a future as desolate as mine.

Rubbing a hand over the expanse of his worn face, Magnus stretched out of his crouch with a small grunt. "Do you want some tea?"

I nodded. "That'd be great."

Magnus disappeared inside the kitchen, then groaned not ten seconds later. Cricking my neck around, I found him peeking his head out, eyebrows hooded over. "I forgot I don't drink tea."

Without even thinking about it, I leapt up from the couch. "I can go pick some up."

He padded forward, arms crossed. "Are you sure? It's really late." When I nodded vigorously, he reached into his back pocket and drew out a twenty from his wallet, handing it to me. "You can borrow a coat from the closet over there."

Crossing the room, I donned one of the many random black coats hanging up, and flashed him a smile. There was a gratefulness in my eyes as I promised to be careful, and then I fled from the apartment. There was only so long that I could handle all the blood and grief; going out to buy tea would give me at least some semblance of normalcy.

Just a block away was a tiny, 24-hour Walgreens that lit up the corner. With Magnus's over-sized coat consuming my tiny frame, I shuffled as quickly as I could over to it, watching my breath fog up in the air. Besides a few drunken wanderers, I was the only person out that night, which was exactly what I wanted. Combined with the crisp air, the peace and quiet of the street did a lot to brighten my mood.

Little did I know that as soon as I stepped inside the warm embrace of the store, I was walking straight into a trap.


	16. Chapter 15

**If you want a gooey love message from me, read the A/N below(:**

**Enjoy!**

**Have you got color in your cheeks?  
Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type that sticks around like something in your teeth?  
Are there some aces up your sleeve?  
Have you no idea that you're in deep?  
I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week  
How many secrets can you keep?  
'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat  
Until I fall asleep  
Spilling drinks on my settee**

**Crawling back to you  
Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?  
'Cause I always do  
Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new  
Now I've thought it through**

**CPOV**

"Good evening, dear," the cashier chirped.

I smiled at her, relishing the way the warmth of the heater crept up my cheeks, leaving a slight flush in its wake. The woman had to be in her sixties with fried, graying hair, Barbie-pink lipstick, and wrinkles dangling from her face, but she had kind eyes. Her friendliness was exactly the pick-me-up I needed after such a long night.

Ducking my head so that my hair could hide the bruises showing beneath my foundation, I hurried over towards the tea section. The sooner I got a nice brew, the sooner I could wait at Simon's side until he woke. Seeing my best friend wake up again after I thought he may never open those soft brown eyes again…well, it wasn't something I wanted to miss.

My thoughts trailed themselves around Simon as I wandered the aisles. When he was lying in the back of my car, the life bleeding out of him onto the upholstery, I got to a point where I had to consider a life without Simon. A life without those trusting eyes to remind me of a home long forgotten; a life without those scrawny arms to wrap around me as I cried; a life without those geeky Star Wars t-shirts for me to tease him about. A life without Simon was a life without color. Up until then, I had never realized just how much Simon had been there for me over the years. From him patching up my scrapes in pre-k to him desperately trying to fix my mangled soul now, he had never once abandoned me.

Every single one of those thoughts put a new gear into motion and, little by little, an entirely new system began to work full-force in my mind. Suddenly, every conversation with Simon came flooding back and I saw—truly _saw—_for the first time what his true feelings for me were. Simon Daniel Lewis loved me, and I couldn't believe how long it had taken me to figure it out. He loved me and I was beginning to wonder: could I love him, too?

It was a strange, foreign thought to me. Instinctively, I wanted to shove it down and smother it until it learned to never resurface again. He was my best friend, after all. But when I stopped to think about it, was loving Simon such a bad thing? Simon, who had been the only person to show he actually cared about what happened to me, and who always had a smile waiting for me when I couldn't seem to find my own. Honestly, I couldn't even imagine a more perfect man for me—he was the complete opposite of my father.

I was so completely distracted and wrapped up in the tangled knot of my thoughts that I didn't notice when someone entered the tea aisle with me. My eyes lazily scanned the shelf, leafing through the various flavored green tea options with mild attention. Landing on a pomegranate choice, I picked up the small Lipton box and flipped it over to read about the flavor.

"I believe pomegranate may be too sweet for you, Clarissa. May I recommend blackberry?" The voice was right at my ear, teeth grazing against the soft skin there and forcing unpleasant shivers to burrow beneath my skin.

I whirled, the Lipton box fumbling from my fingers to the linoleum, and froze when my eyes locked on the burning gaze of those unnerving sapphire eyes. There was a loose grin worn on his lips, stretching across his chiseled features in such a way that gave him an irresistible charm. Passing a hand through his perfectly tousled blond locks, Raphael then adjusted the cuffs of his pinstripe Armani suit and cocked his head to the side.

"Whatever is the matter, sweet heart? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Is that any way to treat your father's faithful new partner?" he asked, smooth as silk.

I cleared my throat and stepped back until my back was digging into the cold metal of the shelves. When I spoke, my voice had taken on my usual business persona: meek, spineless, and cowardly. "Excuse me, sir. I didn't recognize you at first."

Those eyes lit up like glittering jewels as he made a swift move towards me. Cool, soft hands cupped gently around my face, lifting my chin so that the entirety of his looming form could be seen with ease at that proximity. "My, what a beautiful voice you have. Although, I couldn't help but notice something less enticing." His thumb stroked leisurely across my cheekbone. "How did you receive these ugly bruises marring your gorgeous face?"

Though I cast my eyes downward, I did not move from his grasp for fear of what Raphael might report back to my father about this little meeting. "They're nothing, sir. May I please be excused? Father will be expecting me."

Slowly, knowing he didn't have the obligation to ask for my permission, he tugged down the shoulder of my coat until he was able to pull my arm free. He held it out in front of him almost gingerly, as if afraid of damaging me further, and examined the pale skin beneath the severe lighting. His eyes soaked in each cut and bruise there as one would pore over a new novel. Squirming slightly, I swallowed the stiff rod in my throat and stared at him with wide, scared eyes while my heart slammed against my ribs.

"Whose blood is on your shirt?" he asked. When he tilted his head towards the rather large blood stain mottling the center of my shirt, I couldn't help but notice how the light played with the gold of his hair in an eerily similar way as it did with Jace's. His sculpted face flashed once behind my eyes before disappearing in a single blink.

"I found a dying cat in the street and carried it to the vet." It was one of the worst lies I had ever told.

Abruptly, Raphael pressed himself flush against me, fingers tightening their grip around my arm. His eyes flamed a sort of fierce passion as they held my gaze and, despite every putrid feeling I had experienced for him before, I found myself falling deeper and deeper into their depths. Sagging against the shelves behind me, I felt vulnerability consume me, baring me naked to this strange man with the hidden intentions and dazzling appearance.

"As I am confident you are aware, your father expects you to marry one of his partners so that his legacy may be carried on properly when he retires. The moment you turn eighteen, he will choose your groom and you are to be married at once. However, there is a way around this." He paused, leaning in so that one wrong move could send our lips brushing. "I beg of you, Clarissa, to please consider requesting your father selects me as your groom."

When my lips parted to protest, he rushed on. "Please hear me out before you jump to rejections. Imagine what it would be like as my wife. Luxury, happiness, and, most importantly, safety." You could practically see my ears perk up at the sound of safety; it was a word I had learned many years ago to delete from my vocabulary. "If we had a life together, I would never let anyone lay a hand on you. Never again would you have to wake up to cuts and bruises and blood. You would be loved properly, the way a woman such as you deserves to be treated. You would be safe; so would everyone you love."

My eyes were misty, my mind draped in a lovely velvet fog. I tried swimming through it to form a coherent answer, but all I could do was gape at him as time and clarity seemed to slow around me. His words melted from his lips, pooled to the ground at my feet, and painted a picture of peace. Could he truly give me what he offered? Even at a price as high as marriage, it was a deal to seriously consider. It was a deal that could make all my worries disappear.

Leaning in just enough to make our lips graze, Raphael looked up beneath his lashes at my dumbfounded expression. There was a bump near my hip; something had been placed in my pocket.

"Just consider my offer, sweet heart." he said. "I will be eagerly awaiting your answer. You know where to find me." Just as suddenly as he had appeared mere inches in front of me, he sprang back so that a fair amount of distance could be allowed to breathe between us. "Anyhow, you said your father was expecting you. Please send him my wishes for a swift recovery."

At that last sentence, my spine went cold, and my entire body froze into a marble slab. How did Raphael know my father was in the hospital? Did that mean other partners knew as well? And if they knew, there was a complete, distinct possibility that those other partners were out hunting for my blood at that very second.

* * *

**JPOV**

With each step my boots took against the cobblestone walkway leading up to Dani's front door, I felt the inherent urge to spin around and bolt away. In more ways than one, Dani repulsed me with the way she soaked up gossip only to spit it out seconds later to the person it would affect most. She was basically a leech for all intents and purposes; a leech that I had lost interest in consorting with after our hookup a couple nights back. From now on I wanted to focus on becoming a better person so that maybe one day Clary could find something of worth inside my ashen soul.

So then why was I shifting from foot to foot on Dani's front porch, finger hovering just above the doorbell? I had no idea what kind of information Dani had managed to dig up about Clary, but whatever it was, was it really my place to sit there and listen to it? After all, if Clary had wanted me to know, she would have told me.

A moment more of hesitation, then I made up my mind. The temptation of knowing about what went on behind Clary's closed doors was too much to resist. One more night of being selfish, then I would commit myself entirely to being a well-rounded guy.

I pressed the faintly glowing button and rested back on my heels as I listened to the ring resonate throughout the sprawling house. Seconds later, Dani was opening the door with a small smirk resting on her lips.

"It's little later than I was hoping, but I'm glad you finally decided to show your face," she said, widening the space between the door so that I could walk through.

In an effort to make my point about only being there for the information, I kept both my coat and shoes on as I stepped into the entryway. She rolled her eyes as she shut the door, but led me over to the white room nonetheless.

"Take a seat." She gestured to one of the large wing-backed, cream sofas. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Let's just get this over with, Dani," I said as I plopped down. I gave her a bored, dry look.

Snorting, she perched herself on the sofa opposite of me and crossed her legs. "You should at least try to act a little more appreciative. I don't have to tell you what I know."

"No, but you're dying to." Her eyes flicked up sharply to meet mine, and I smirked inwardly, knowing I had caught her. "You know you can't resist spilling a good piece of gossip."

"So I can't keep a secret and you can't keep your dick in your pants. None of us are saints, Jace."

I knocked my boots up on the spotless coffee table. "Yes, thank you for that wonderful observation."

For an overtly long moment, we both just glared at each other, wondering who was going to give in first. But I had stopped at Pandemonium for a shot before coming here; now that I had already committed to getting this information, my attitude was as calm as could be. I had absolutely no quarrels about patiently waiting for Dani to suck up her pride and tell me what I came here for.

Just as I had predicted, she eventually sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "You really want to know?"

I shrugged, keeping my gaze steady.

She leaned forward and a sort of sly smile began to bloom on those red lips of hers. "Clarissa Fray is in love with you."

My only reaction was a blink. Then, with a grunt, I stood up and turned for the door. Dani was ahead of me in a flash, though.

"It's true," she exclaimed. "I could tell the second you two began talking."

"Yeah, because you guys are just such great friends, right?" I droned.

Dani averted her eyes. "Look, I know her and I haven't been exactly buddy-buddy lately, but it's nothing personal. All I know is that I've never seen Clary look at someone the way she looks at you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Even when she's mad at you, or trying to act like you have no effect on her, there's something in her eyes. It's like she's searching for something her whole life, but she can only find it in you." She smiled, but it was bitter. "She hasn't fully realized it yet, but there's something very special between you two. Even I can feel it whenever you're together."

Suddenly, as I looked at Dani, with her shoulders hunched over and arms wrapped protectively around her middle as if she wanted to fold inside of herself, I realized something that I should have noticed a long time ago. A memory, distant and blurry, tickled for my attention.

_It was the middle of freshman year, just before I began my drinking addiction. Arianne had screamed at me for hours last night after she came home from her job at the bar to find the dishes still in the sink. She was trying to be a good guardian to me, I understood that much, but I saw the stress beginning to wane on her. I had been fearing she was beginning to sneak drinks when her manager wasn't looking for a while now, and last night had only confirmed my suspicions: her breath had reeked of whisky, and her eyes were extremely watery, which was how they always got when she was intoxicated. I only prayed this drinking habit wouldn't get out of hand._

_Yanking out my World History textbook, I slammed my locker shut and spun around only to be met with a very shy brunette girl staring at her shoes. Eyebrows coming together, I asked: "Is there something you need?"_

_With a trembling hand, she held out a scrap of paper with a hurried scrawl printed over it. "I saw you drop this and thought it might be important." Her voice was just above a squeak; she still had yet to look up from the floor._

_I plucked the paper from her fingers and glanced at it. Then it dawned on me: this was the number of a junior I had met around a week back. He was an extremely eccentric man who was always running a hand through his jet black hair and making snide remarks toward me during class. Despite feeling as though he didn't particularly care for me, the boy had taken up a liking towards my best friend, Alec, and had asked me to give Alec his number. Magnus would have killed me if the number hadn't gotten to Alec._

"_Thank you," I said. "I'm glad you found it; I really need to give this to someone. I feel like I should repay you in some way."_

"_Oh, no, that's fine. I—"_

"_Please," I interrupted. "You really saved my ass on this one."_

_Raising her head slowly, I finally got a good look at her face. She was actually quite beautiful with wide brown eyes, short dark hair, and soft features. But I felt as though her looks were down-played with the way she looked so frazzled and scared, as if she wanted to curl up and hide._

"_Well, you could take me on a date." She rushed out the words so fast that I hardly even comprehended them._

_My eyebrows shot up. Definitely wasn't expecting that one. But I tried my best to take the surprise in stride. "Actually, I'm not looking to date right now. But a pretty girl like you shouldn't waste her time on me anyway. Any guy would kill to go out with you." _

_A furious blush crept up her cheeks, and she ducked her head in an effort to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm pretty?"_

_I grinned. "Beautiful." I turned to take my leave, but then I caught myself. "What's your name?"_

_A light went off in her eyes in that second, and she seemed to beam happiness. "Danielle."_

_Nodding, I spun once again and started walking back down the halls. "See you around, Dani."_

Dani wasn't born with some otherworldly gift that made her an expert on reading people's faces. No, she knew that Clary was in love with me because she recognized the spark in Clary's eyes. It was the same spark Dani had in her eyes all those years, and that I was just now seeing.

I paused, hanging my head. All of the arrogant remarks and rough glances I threw her way rushed back to me and I felt like I was being hit by a semi. I couldn't believe I treated her that badly when all she wanted was me to pay her as much attention as I did to the girls I hooked up with each week. And then, when she finally thought she had won me, I threw her arms off me to rush after Clary. The pain she must have felt in that moment; the cold, bitter slap of rejection that soaked into your skin and spread a steady poison through your veins.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I had no idea that…you…."

A lilted laugh rippled up, sounding torn by the tears that were starting to slip down her cheeks. "That's the one thing I always hated about you, Jace. You have always been so blind towards the things around you. It's almost as if you enjoy sinking into a cesspool of your self-pity."

"Dani—"

"No." She held up a hand, cutting off any words I had to say. She was turned away from me so that I could only see the side of her face as she glared at the wall in front of her. "I realized today that I was never meant to have you. I was only ever put into your life to help give you back what you lost.

"Our friendship started with me giving you back your piece of paper, and now it's going to end with me giving you back Clary. I'll help her see whatever worth is left inside you so that you two stop playing whatever screwed up game you're dancing around and start loving each other in the way you were meant to. But after that…I won't be able to speak to you again. It's finally time for me to move on."

I gulped, processing the heavy load she just placed on me. At last, I gave a small nod. "Thank you for doing this for me. I understand you don't want to ever see me again, but just in case you want to invite me to your wedding—" Swiftly, before she could react, I folded her up into a hug, clutching her to my chest. It wasn't until that moment that I finally realized that Dani really was a special person in my life. Despite her awfulness, she had always tried to be a supportive friend even when I pushed her away at every turn. And now I had to let her go.

"You're going to make someone very happy one day, pretty girl. You'll be treated the way you've deserved all these years." A few of her tears dripped onto my collarbone and slid into the neckline of my tee, dampening it. I pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head.

"See you around, Dani," I whispered.

* * *

**As promised, my gooey love message:**

**You guys are the most amazing readers. When I started this story nearly two years ago, I never would have guessed it would have attracted so many lovely, supportive people. I am blessed to call you all my readers, and just want to say thank you for sticking with me! I know I can be a handful ^^**

**R&R(:**


	17. Chapter 16

**I'm sorry this is so late :s **

_**Light me up a cigarette, and put it in my mouth**_

_**You're the only one who wants me around**_

_**And I can think of a thousand reasons why I don't believe in you**_

_**I don't believe in you and I**_

_**Go ahead and fill my drink up, you still be all I think of,**_

_**We try to stay afloat but know the weight'll sink us,**_

_**We celebrate in the sacrifices we had to make **_

_**We had to wait and prepare for the lost,**_

_**Over sold on the win and unaware of the cost**_

_**I guess you live and learn, learn when the love is gone**_

_**Now here we are again, back from our darkest end**_

_**We'll keep this happiness going as long as we pretend**_

_**It seems we built this from nothing but broken dreams**_

_**The champagne's on the dresser, empty from all my efforts**_

_**And I can think of a thousand reasons why, I don't believe in you and I**_

**CPOV**

The night was cold. It was quiet, dark, and colder than I have ever felt it before. My bones rattled beneath my skin, desperately trying to create their own heat, but it was useless. After that night, my life would eternally be consumed by the lick of frigid disposition.

My conversation with Raphael had given me quite a lot to think about, so much so that I realized I had been wandering the streets of Manhattan for about twenty minutes straight without even a cent of an idea of where I was. I figured I might as well sit down on a nearby bench, which is where I was then, huddled inside the expanse of Magnus' coat and slowly feeling my lips chap and freeze together with disuse.

Under the blank charcoal of the sky, with the wind whispering against my cheeks, everything became unnervingly clear to me. More so than anything has ever been clear in my life. I saw the haphazard lights of the apartments and hotels surrounding me come together in one grand puzzle, illuminating the way my life was going to go. I could picture it all in that moment, a sparkling backdrop against shattering glass. Though I found a sense of relief in my newly-discovered recourse in life, there was an odd bundling in my chest that tugged every now and again, reminding me of what I was going to have to sacrifice.

I licked my lips and pushed a strand of hair out of my face that had been tickling my nose for the past five minutes. I wished I had mittens; I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. Sighing out a plume of breath, I stood and started on my way back to Magnus' apartment. Since I had been out on my tea errand for an hour now, I was sure he was getting worried.

I was wrong, though. When I opened his unlocked apartment door, an apology already skirting my lips, I was welcomed with the obnoxious snores of Magnus, who was sprawled out awkwardly on the couch, one leg thrown over the back of it. Rolling my eyes, I shut the door as quietly as I could behind me and tiptoed my way to the kitchen. Despite not knowing him that well, my chest still constricted when I glanced at Magnus one last time. He had helped me beyond words, and I had no way to repay him.

Bowing my head, I ducked into the kitchen, pressing my back flat against one of the walls. Simon. There was a single light above where he laid on the island counter, dimmed so that the warm glow was just enough to see, but not enough to wake him. But it couldn't hide how bad he looked. Magnus had cut off his shirt, which was now laying in tatters on the floor, but he never cleaned up the blood that had been smeared all over his smooth chest—the counter, the floor—during the patchings performed on him. His lips, parted just slightly, were crinkled with dehydration, and his long, thick lashes were casting pin-needle shadows across his cheekbones.

As I stared at him, I realized this was the first time Simon had ever seemed fragile to me. Vulnerable, yes, but this was something entirely different. In a way, vulnerability made one seem stronger, for it takes real courage to expose that much of yourself on such a personal level. But there, he was actually weak for once. After all he had been through the past year, he finally looked breakable.

Something inside me stirred, propelling me forward until I stood at his side, his hand clasped gingerly in my warm grasp. He was as cold as a corpse; in fact, I would have thought he was if it weren't for the quick, shallow breaths puttering out of him. I pored over those same soft features that had been with me through every step in my life, big or small. There was no question that he loved me, and that he would care for me always. In that moment, I could envision a life with him. A parallel universe just like the dream I had forever ago: Simon and I, old and gray, sitting on the front porch of the house we'd had since we had first married, watching our grandkids roll around on the front lawn.

It was the ideal life most strove to have one day: a golden sliver of the American dream. But it wasn't mine to take. My life was too corrupt—_I_ was too corrupt. It would be an awfully selfish thing to do to bring someone into my life knowing that my poison would one day seep deep, deep into their veins just as it had mine. No. If I truly loved Simon, I would leave him now, and allow for him to move on to a girl much sweeter than I. Only a girl pure as an angel would suit a person as selfless as Simon Lewis.

And I did love him. I realized it then, with the ache beneath my ribcage throbbing harder each second I forced myself to continue analyzing the situation. But it was a love that reached out only to a certain extent. I loved Simon as a man who had lost so much, yet has stayed by my side through it all, through both of our turmoil. I loved Simon as a best friend who would lend a hand to dust me off when I refused to dig myself out of the sand. I loved Simon as someone who I would always know and care for, but never fall in love with. I loved Simon—but I was not in love with him, as he was with me.

All of my joints seemed frozen to the point where I thought that if I moved one, they would all snap. Simon's hand was slick with sweat, as if he was fighting off the flu. I cringed, knowing that this was all my fault. If he had never loved me, if I had never let him get this close to me, he wouldn't be laying half-dead on the table like he was then. He'd be safe, happy.

A little voice nagged at the back of my mind, telling me that I was being ridiculous. When I had found Simon last week, he was living in the shadows of an alley, and all I did was try and give him a home. If only mine wasn't so poisonous. If only I had a father who was normal. If only I was normal.

If only, if only. Numerous possibilities swarmed my head and thwarted away any coherent thoughts. I just stood there, watching the muscles of his face twitch periodically as I wished with all my heart that things could be different. But that was the way of the world. Wins and loses. Gives and takes. Somewhere along the road, life will balance itself out, hopefully in Simon's favor. Not only was I far past being saved, but I wasn't worth being saved anyway.

I sniffed, trying to hold back the tears that kept pecking at the back of my eyes. Simon's breath hitched for a second before returning to a regular rhythm.

"I love you," I whispered, rubbing a soothing circle in the back of his hand.

There was a weighted truth to the words, but I didn't mean them like he would have, had he said them to me. It was one of the wonders of the world, how one person could fall so passionately in love, but never have it returned. I wondered if one day I would fall in love with someone. It was a stupid thing to think of now, moments away from giving up my life, but I couldn't help but pause for a second and just imagine. Imagine what it would be like to be held in someone's arms and feel as if there was no better place in the world but right there; to grow old with someone's hand in yours.

I shook my head abruptly, realizing that my mind had wandered too far. If I kept thinking that way, my nerve to go through with tomorrow's events would be squandered, never to return. Casting Simon a final glance, I tightened the belt of my coat and walked silently out of the apartment.

Out on the street, everything seemed too loud. My head was pounding with honking horns, blaring sirens, the drunken laughter of the two girls who stumbled past me. I needed somewhere quiet, somewhere to sit and have one final night to myself. But where could I go? Not back in the apartment, not to my house. In that moment, wrapping my arms tight around the curve of my waist, I felt the extended impact of that day's events: I had no more home. No more life. No more love.

Without rhythm or rhyme, I padded down the street, my head tucked into the collar of my coat as the wind tried its hardest to push back against me. I laughed under my breath, the sound strangled, as I realized how ridiculous of a thought it was to think the forces of nature were trying to hold me back from the decision I had made.

The wind tore at my hair, mangling the wilted curls. I fisted my hand through them for a second, pulling the hair back from the crown of my head before letting it droop back down. My lips ached for the cool kiss of a bottle, the smooth slither of expensive scotch, the kind that I'd find in my dad's liquor cabinet. I wanted to lose myself in oblivion and never wake up, just become a smiling, moving doll with no real cohesion of what was real and what was fake. Maybe that was the only way I'd ever be happy again.

To this day, I'm not sure how it happened. After it all, he had only told me his address once. But somehow, I was standing outside the entrance to Jace's apartment building. The bricks had moss oozing out of them, bulging cracks in the foundation with the might only nature could produce. My chest was heaving, tight with the kind of exertion one'd get from running a marathon. And yet, all I had done was walk here, and stand in the cold, dithering whether or not I should go in.

My hand curled around the handle, a tingle of life beginning to spread through me as I thought of seeing the electric fire that was Jace Wayland. Tugging open the door, I knew that I was in the right spot. There was one more thing I had to take care of before I did what I had to do.

A dull heat pressed against me, warmer than what was outside, but not by any means actually _warm_. There was a petite receptionist sitting at the lopsided front desk, its paint scratched off years ago. She was chewing on a pencil, a crossword clutched in one of her hands as she pored over it, trying to decipher the next clue. I walked up and tapped twice on the desk, feeling as though ringing the concierge bell when we were both right there would be obnoxious.

Glancing up, she dropped her pencil in shock. "Oh my, miss, are you okay? You're covered in bruises. Would you like me to call someone?"

She reached for the phone on her desk, but I covered her hand with mine, stopping her. When she look back to me, I shook my head. "Don't worry, they're nothing. I came here to see someone."

"Who would that be?" her brows furrowed.

"Jace Wayland."

For a second, she just gawked at me, mouth slightly agape. Then she shut it self-consciously and swallowed. "You know Jace?"

I nodded. "Very well."

"Oh, yeah?" She shifted her stance so that one hip was cocked out, a hand resting there. "What's your name?"

I crossed my arms. "Clarissa Fray."

Tapping a finger on her jaw, she pretended to consider for a second. "Nope, haven't heard of you. So if you'd please leave, I have some more important things I'd like to take care of."

"What makes you think he'd mention me to you?" I scoffed.

"Listen," she said, leaning forward to enunciate her words. "I'm the only person who has been solid in Jace's life recently. I know everything about him, and yet somehow you haven't come up. I get that you might feel important to him or some shit like that, but the last thing he needs right now is another slut to waste himself away on. So you better get lost before I come behind this counter and kick you out myself, understood?"

I covered my face with my hands, breathing deeply in then out, in then out. Lightheadedness was filling me, and I was consumed by a foreign urge that ached deep in my bones to see Jace. I needed to see him one last time before…before…

"Clary?"

Sometimes the universe lines itself up in just the right ways, a perfect harmony with your thoughts. I spun around, took in the lines of Jace's utter surprise clearly etched across his face, and I instantly felt better. My stress deflated, and I broke into a smile, my shoulders slumping.

"Jace." The receptionist and I said it at the same time, the different tones clashing.

The tiny receptionist walked out from behind her counter, arms folding over her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to use the washer." Even as he said it, he wasn't looking at the girl, his eyes were trained on me. He took a few steps forward, shaking his head as if to make sure he was truly seeing me standing there in his lobby. "Clary, are you alright? You look exhausted."

A warble of broken laughter escaped me before I could stop it—I sounded insane. "Yeah, it's been a long night." I paused, scratching my head. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, shifting the laundry bag he was holding to the other hand. "Come on, we can talk while I put this load of clothes in."

Shooting the receptionist a haughty look—getting an eye roll in return—I followed after Jace down a flight of stairs and into the basement where two washers and two dryers lined the wall. He dropped his bag down by one machine, lifted the top, then began piling in clothes. For a long time, neither of us said anything.

Then: "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged defensively. "What? I'm not allowed to visit you at your home?"

He glanced up at me for a second. "Am I allowed to visit you at yours?"

"Well…no, but…," I shifted, my clothes suddenly feeling suffocating, "I'm a special case."

"Yeah, so am I," he said dryly. "Probably isn't such a good idea to come around here anymore."

I pursed my lips, eyes sketching over the planes of his face, which seemed so exhausted under the fluorescent lights. "Is that why you don't?"

Gripping the washer with both hands, muscles visibly straining, he stared inside at his clothes, as if struggling to make the decision to tell me something. Finally, he shook his head and continued to pile in the clothes.

"Sorry," I said, averting my eyes. "I didn't come here to make you feel uncomfortable. I'll just go."

"Wait." In one swift movement, Jace caught my arm, then backed me up against the cool concrete wall. Intertwining our fingers, he pinned my hands against the wall, on either side of my head. His face was inches of mine; a single breath of his sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

"What happened to you?" he whispered. His lips were deathly close to brushing against mine. "Where did all these bruises come from?"

Staring at the honey of his eyes, I suddenly lost all defenses. My legs morphed to rubber, my walls melted into mush. The tears that had been welling behind my eyes all night spilled over all at once, rushing down my face as I gasped in a shuddering sob.

"They've always been there," I said between cries. "My father is an alcoholic. He beats me every day. It never stops. It—I—"

Jace crushed me against his chest, arms wrapping around me as if I were a raft in the middle of the ocean. He buried his face in the mass of my curls, and soon I felt his own tears against my neck. Without a second thought, I clung to him just as hard as he was to me: two castaways abandoned at sea, only to stumble upon each other years later.

"My sister…."

He didn't need to continue. I fisted my hands in the back of his shirt, tugging him closer to me to let him know I understood—he didn't need to say it out loud. All the dots connected, and I realized in the moment that Jace and I were one in the same. Both of us were poor excuses for human beings, with demons beyond repair. We were lost in the world, and crushed by those who were meant to love us. All we had left was each other.

Both of us realized that in the same moment: in a world where we used to be so alone, we now had someone to struggle along with. Somehow, despite what blubbering messes we were in that moment, our lips found each other. We crashed together, heat consuming every inch of my body, sparks igniting where his fingers brushed against my bare skin. He pressed me back against the wall, molding his body against mine, trying to get closer, closer, as our lips sent us spiraling higher and higher with every kiss.

I felt pour coursing through my veins, a strength previously unbeknownst to me, and that seemed to only be provided by the weight of Jace's body against mine. There was an urge to tear through the thin material of his shirt, so I could be closer to that infinite scorch of his skin. I needed more of him; wanted to be drunk off his scent, his lips, his undeniable allure.

Shutting off my mind, I continued to press closer and closer to him, shivering when his fingers slid under my shirt and pressed against the smooth skin of my hips, nails scratching lightly as if he couldn't control his desire for me. His teeth found my neck, nibbling up and down and pressing tender kisses along my collarbone, dredging out a moan from me that was rooted deep within my chest. Burying my hand in his thick hair, I wrenched his lips back up to mine, kissing him with a furious desperation, as if, just maybe, he held the cure to all the pain that had been built up inside me all those years.

Too bad I would never be able to find out. Because in real life—in my life—these moments never lasted. Soon, it would have to come to an end, and then I would have to carry out with what I needed to do.

And never see Jace again.

* * *

**Woaaaah, there's a new chapter for you! More of a filler than anything, but I did give you Clace since you all have been such wonderfully patient readers! **

**Speaking of patience, SORRY. I have two AP classes in addition to all my honors classes this year, and in order to keep up with all the workloads, I haven't been able to spare a second of writing. But I promise that I will be writing chapters non-stop over Christmas Break (which has officially started) so that I can post one every two weeks until the end of the fic.**

**Anywho, thanks a ton for reading. **

**R&R, cause I love you all so much, and will update faster if you do!(;**

**Thanks, lovelies!**


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